Someone More
by Orange Seltzer
Summary: [PreRHPS]When things don't work out for Columbia and Frank, she goes to desperate measures to try and get them back together. But what if things don't go as planned? [FrankxColumbia][ColumbiaxMagenta Friends with Benefits][Eventual ColumbiaxEddie]
1. The Specimen

Disclaimer: If I owned The Rocky Horror Picture Show, I'd have been alive in the 70s. Sorry darlings, I popped out of the womb in the early 90s.

X.x.x.x.X

She awoke with the sun peaking through the dusty chintz curtains; wrists raw from the chains they had used last night. Her eyes wanted to stay closed, wanted to relive the wild animal cries, the kinky intimacy. She could still smell the sweat and Chanel, wanted to bathe in the scent forever; but when she reached for the Doctor, she only felt air.

Eyes shot open, still smudged with eyeliner, and heavy with sleep. Where was her beloved Frankie?

Sitting up, the ratty crimson sheet falling down, revealing tiny, perky breasts, and budding, hard nipples. She looked around, her long raven hair in tangles, cascading down her moon-glow white body, utterly confused. Closing her eyes, Columbia got a rush of what had happened last night once more. Popping them open, she half-expected to find him there, grinning at her in the charming way of his. But alas, nothing.

Jumping out of bed, the groupie searched under it for her sweet transvestite, growing more anxious. She knew it was stupid, but the separation anxiety was getting to her. "How can you rock my world like that, and than just disappear?" She squealed, running down the hall, still wearing nothing. Ah, there was her room, with a wall covered with Frank-N-Furter's face. Jumping up in excitement, she dashed to the larger than life photo, kissing it; her lips against his, which happened to be a good ten times larger. They never made love in her room, she shared it with Magenta and the domestic had grumbled about how she didn't want to see her best friend, and the woman (man, maybe?)-Who was just using her until she got bored- going at it. Columbia didn't even think Frank had been inside their room, he kept to the lab mostly.

The lab, of course.

Switching on the surveillance screen, she only saw black and white static, flecked with gray. Something must have addled it. No worries though. Throwing on under things, ripped fishnets, and a bright red slip dress. Looking in the mirror, she blew a kiss, only half approving of her appearance. Running her fingers (which badly needed painting) through her black hair. Leaving the smudgy eyeliner from last night, she looked like a zombie, but the need to see her darling Doctor was tugging at her; she had to give in.

Sprinting down the staircase, she tumbled down the last few steps, the need for Frank growing stronger, making her shudder and more persistent. It was hard to believe she had known him a mere ninety three days, eighteen hours, and (was it? She should know, it was mentally engraved in her head) fifty-three minutes, but was falling faster and harder than ever before. This was the only situation in which time meant anything to her.

She remembered it clearly, relived it every time he wasn't around.

X.x.x.x.X

She was twenty three years old, still was, and walking down the street in broad daylight, smoking a cigarette and contemplating whether she should blow her savings to go see a concert. She had a job interview to get to, not that she wanted a job. Practically a professional groupie, it was known around the town that she had fooled around with half of Led Zeppelin, and there were rumors that _she _was the real reason The Beatles broke up. But that was all about to change.

He was across the street, sitting in the driver's seat of a beat up old pick up truck. She heard him cat call, and grinned, assuming he had heard of her latest "sexcaspades." Not stopping, she turned her head to blow him a kiss. He winked, and she was totally spell bound. Stopping dead in her tracks, Columbia felt her heart thud against her chest, the impact trailing all the way down to her knees, making them weak. The man (or woman, maybe) had a curly mop of hair, black that rivaled her own. Heavy makeup, and sinister plum lips; he was completely and utterly divine. The man curled his finger in an indication for her to cross the street and join him; she swooned, and ran.

A car blared, bringing her back into reality. The driver was a young man with glasses, the girl curly haired and innocent. Yelling at her, Columbia didn't make out the words, she was too love struck. Flipping them off casually, and strolling-as if in a trance-towards him, her heart pounding, making her slender figure shake. Than, she was there, face to face with the transvestite she immediately knew she loved.

"Hello gorgeous," a thick English accent floated towards her ears, and her breath became shaky. His breath smelled like cigarettes, and he himself smelled of Chanel. Never one for designer fragrances, Columbia decided she loved it anyway. She stuttered a breathy, high-pitched hello, making him laugh. It was charming, it was perfect, she was in a dream world.

"Do you always talk with your voice so…cartoonish?"

It was a lazy voice, and he had lazy eyes that still managed to pierce into her. She shook her head, blushing. The cigarette was flicked to the ground, it would get in the way.

"You should."

"Okay!"

He asked her for her name, and she told him, practicing her new voice, an octave or two above her real voice. He asked her if she wanted to take a ride, and grinning eagerly, the groupie bobbed her head up in down. Her feet sprinted to the other side of the vehicle; pulse racing once she was inside. They drove off into broad daylight, the smell of Chanel and being in the presence of someone she (for once) more than liked made the day go on in a dreamlike trance. He took her to the castle, his home, and bedded her, carefully and skillfully, better than Jimmy Page ever had. It had been that way for ninety-three days, eighteen hours, and fifty-four minutes, and Columbia would be alright with it being that way forever.

But that was about to change.

X.x.x.x.X

The lift reached the lab, pink, and starry ceiling-ed. There was her wonderful Frankie, her pal Magenta, and her weird brother, Riff Raff. But they were not alone. In the middle of the room, they were all crowded around a chair, which held a man. A greaser. Columbia didn't know why, but she hated him. He was bound and gagged, and looked horrified, making her grin with delight. Everyone turned to her, but she couldn't miss the look of-dismay, could it be?-on the Doctor's face when he saw her.

"Columbia…good morning," He sad, uneasily. Snapping the pink gloves, she walked towards him, her heart racing when he stepped back. This wasn't a good racing; it made her feel sick and worried.

"Good morning darling," She tried cheerfully, her grin too big, horrible ideas forming, clouding the little logic that she had. He barely returned the smile.

"W-what's wrong? Whose the fat ass?"

Magenta snickered; even Riff Raff looked amused. Frank-N-Furter bit his cherry red lips, sighing. "This is Eddie. He's going to be the specimen."

"For what?"

"For…my new project."

Dread filled her, even though she had no idea what the new project could be. For all she knew, Frankie could be creating clones. But no, she knew. Something just wasn't right.

"Specimen? New project…for what? What are you making Frankie?"

He shuddered, hating that she would use his pet name in front of his servants. Clearing his throat, he snapped the gloves a few times, wishing it would give him courage to face her. Turning paler, paler than the makeup made him, he opened his mouth. No sound came out. Clearing his throat again, he commanded Magenta and Riff Raff to leave. They did, making Columbia whimper.

"You see…Columbia…I'm going to make a creature."

"Oh? What kind of creature."

She knew. The kind of creature that provided the services she already thought she was providing. Her eyes got that horrible hot feeling; her whimpers became sobs of anguish. She considered dropping to her knees, begging for her darling, sweet Transvestite to reconsider; let them live their lives happy and sexual. She could promise to fill up his emptiness; even though they would both know it was a lie. So she did what she hoped would prevent the creation from happening: she lunged at the terrified greaser.

Her stubby nails clawed at him, she kicked him with her bare feet, and he tried to cry out from his gag in protest. Her feet were wild and forceful, but she was too distressed to make solid impact; there would be no bruising. Than, she felt the strong, cold hands of Frank, and her body turned limp. He spun her around, made her face him; but she couldn't look at him.

"Yes, Columbia…I'm making a man. This man…Edward, will provide half his brain-" "Edward's" eyes bulged, and he squirmed more. "Look, Columbia…you're a groupie. You did what groupies do. Now, it's over."

She thought she could hear her heart breaking, wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not. "I'll just…leave," she suggested, not wanting the bit of hope in her voice to be heard. She turned around and began to walk to the elevator shaft, eyes to the ground. She wanted him to cry out that this was a mistake, he changed his mind; they could forget about Edward, or whatever his name was. But when he called her, only half her wish came true.

"No, I'm sorry. That cannot…happen."

"What?" She spun around, red eyes glaring, not caring that her already smudged makeup would be running down her white, normally porcelain face.

"You can't leave. I'm afraid you know too much."

The thought of having to see her Frankie everyday, but not being able to touch him broke her even more. Letting out a high-pitched scream-she didn't remember how to talk normally-she twirled around, falling to the ground. Right before she passed out, her head hitting the floor with a dull thud, she could hear his voice, vividly smell the Chanel, and hear him utter words to her in that thick English voice of his:

"I'm sorry Columbia."

X.x.x.x.X

Hope you enjoyed! Yes, I know it says Columbia had black hair, but that's all part of the plot. Yes, I've seen the movie. I am technically a Video Virgin, but for my sweet sixteen I'm totally having a Midnight Screening! That's a little far off though…

Read, review, I dunno when I'm getting the next chapter out, but I really want all these thoughts hammered out, so hopefully soon.


	2. I Never Killed A Man

Darkness.

All Columbia registered was darkness, and she felt vertigo as soon as she awoke. That, and goose feathers poking out of the pillow she was lying on. Sitting up, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and let them adjust to the black around her. Of course, she was in her room. And staring at her, on the wall, was the face of the man she never wanted to see again. Her discovery was gnawing at her insides, even more so when she remembered why. She felt physically weak, scrunching up into a ball on the bed she hadn't spent a night in since she got there. _No time to start now,_ she thought, getting up and grabbing the nearest sharp object: a pair of scissors. Slightly perplexed why the room even had on in it (than again, where would they belong?) she wasted no time on the train of thought. Dashing over to the black and white, larger than life Frank-N-Furter, she raised her arm as high as she could, reaching his right eye.

_Slash. Tip. Tear._

Strips of the Doctor's face fell down, carving and curling over her. Struggling to get out, she grimaced, pulling at the poster of the man who betrayed her. There were noticeable incisions in the wall, but she kept stabbing, making the dry wall wheeze dust, and make spiders struggle for safety. _Hack hack hack. _Columbia didn't stop until just tiny thin strips remained on the holey wall, and she clasped in an aggravated heap, covered in dry wall bits and pieces. She clutched her head, letting it hang, scissors still in hand, she clamped them down and heard the _snitchet _of them closing.

A lock of raven hair fell down, draping on her fishnets. The idea sunk in a second later.

_Snip snip snip _the hair fell down; she didn't stop to think about how she could regret this. She didn't bother to use a mirror, or turn on any lights; she just settled on hacking off nearly three feet of naturally black hair. Columbia got it shoulder length-most of it anyway-and thought she was doing just fine when the door open and dim light flooded in.

"Vwhat are you doing?"

The maid was standing in the doorway that emitted light, causing Columbia to shrink back into the wall. Reality sunk in as far as it would go, and she looked down in horror: she was covered with hair. Her hair. It took years to grow it that long, and now…moaning, her tears welled up again; she felt like a human spigot. "Aww, no, do no cry." Magenta flicked on the lights, making Columbia's sore eyes even more sensitive. Looking up, she saw the domestic tilt her head slightly, and cluck her tongue. Dropping the scissors, the groupie stood up, shaking hair of her. It fell like a waterfall of ink, but pieces still clung onto her skin, and dress. Spinning around, she knew she must've looked like a mess. Badly cut hair (and bits still clinging to her) and eyes red, rimmed with kohl melted by tears. Not a good look for anyone, least of all a groupie held hostage.

"Come here."

"What?"

"I can fix you. Bring me the scissors."

She didn't ask questions, just kept her head to the ground, arms wrapped around her body. Magenta was holding a feather duster, brushing off the stray hairs, they fell to the floor. Columbia knew it was Magenta's job to clean it up; but there were slim chances of that. Handing her the sheers, still stuck with raven strands, she stood there as the domestic shaped the hair, quickly and skillfully.

"How'd you learn to do hair?"

"I am a domestic; I can do anything. Ok."

She felt her hair timidly, running fingers through it. The top was barely chin length, and silky, the hair underneath it was short and cropped. It felt bristly and Columbia felt hesitant to look in the mirror. She closed her eyes, and felt Magenta lead her to the tall mirror. Opening them slowly, a wide grin spread across her face. Maybe the domestic was right; maybe she _could _do anything. Still seeking change, she turned around and voiced ideas for the new Columbia.

X.x.x.x.X

"Eee! I think I got some in my eye!"

"You did not get it in your eye, your head is upside down."

Magenta's hands rubbed the wet hair in the sink, getting the rest of the dye out. Part of Columbia's impulsive decisions was to not only cut her hair, but also dye it. That, and shave off her eyebrows because "auburn hair and black eyebrows? No way." "Okay, you are done." Lifting her head, she was immediately smothered by a red-stained (probably blood, but Columbia was too used to it to care) rag, which Magenta wrestled her head with it. Eyes still stinging from what she assumed was the hair dye, they were squeezed shut in hopes of blocking out the pain. Than, she heard a gasp.

"Oh, shit."

Her burning eyes popped open, they met her reflection in the broken mirror. Cursing under her breath, she fingered the hair, which had turned a shade of raspberry. Bits of it stuck out from Magenta's harsh rubbing, she smoothed them down nervously. Resisting the urge to strangle her friend, she ran shaky fingers where her eyebrows used to be. Than, she laughed.

"Vhat is so funny?"

"I dunno! I look ridiculous, yet I'm totally hot. Yay!"

Columbia twirled to face her friend, hugging her while jumping upside down. The events of the day were momentarily forgotten. She stopped suddenly, rebound hitting her, and when the two of them made eye contact, she leaned forward and kissed her. The domestic immediately returned the kiss, her lips powerful and hungry. But it was wrong; Frank's face was angry in her mind. She broke the kiss apart.

Magenta smirked, and raised and eyebrow before walking off casually, with a bit of a swagger. Wiping her lips off, Columbia thought she could hear the maid snickering.

X.x.x.x.X

""Let us see…I've never fucked around with a rocker."

"Vell, go on, take a sip."

Columbia did, and giggled in a drunken manner. Magenta took a swig too, grabbing the bottle from her, and tweaking her nipple at the same time. It had been a few hours since the kiss, yet Magenta was still acting like nothing had happened. Columbia silently thanked her; every time she thought about that _incident _she thought about Frank-N-Furter. What if her dear Frankie found out? Luckily, the domestic seemed to understand, and flirted with her the way she always did.

_**Crash. Bang. Stomp.**_

Noise came from the upstairs lab, no doubt the specimen "Edward" was trying to escape. They'd hear him every once in a while, and than he'd stop. Frank was probably trying to run "tests" on the poor guy; but Columbia's heart wrenched, she felt no sympathy for him. He was helping taking her Frankie away; he would be part of the creation.

"Ve could alvays kill him."

"What?"

Columbia than realized she was talking to herself, out loud. Blushing, she heard the words in her head, rolling them about like ocean waves. Yes, she could kill the specimen. And than, Frank would have to find someone else. It would stall him; give her time to win him back. She got up from the rickety bed, drew on eyebrows (a little wiggly, and too high) she grabbed the scissors.

"Alright. I'm going to kill him. Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Nodding, almost nervously, she was sure there was passion burning in her eyes. Turning the knob, she stumbled (she was still fairly intoxicated) out into the hall, ready to win her transvestite back.

X.x.x.x.X

Aww, no reviews? C'mon people, let me know you're reading this! 33


	3. The Drunken Plan

Thank you darlings, for the lovely reviews. Your rosy words tint my world.

X.x.x.x.X

She couldn't walk in a line, and all her words came out slurred together; but she wasn't _that _drunk. The plan stayed focused in her mind, the anger flaring as she walked down the stairs (hobbled was more like it) and headed towards the lift. Unfortunately, the transvestite she loved wasting time with was coming down. Thanking someone (anyone) that the mansion was dark, and shadows covered most of the house, she ducked into on, next to the coffin clock. Frank wretched the door open, storming to the Zen Room, to relax in a way only cannabis could help. It tugged at her heart to see him upset; sheer willpower kept her from running to comfort him.

As soon as he was out of sight, Columbia drunkenly sprinted to the elevator, pressing the button and stumbled when it lurched and began to climb. _I need a plan_, she thought, cocking her head accordingly. She knew she could just slit his throat, but her drunken fury wanted something elaborate, something that would tell her Frankie-no, hurt her Frankie; the way he hurt her. _And what better way_, she thought slyly, _than through false seduction? _The "plan" plastered an idiot grin on her face, she felt a shiver of anticipation as the lift reached the lab, and she saw him.

The place was a mess; Frank's scrubs were lying in ruins, bits of blood dotting it like little red raindrops. A motorcycle she hadn't noticed before was on the observatory ramp, with oil dripping out of its pipes. And there of course, was Edward. But he wasn't alone-sort of. He had what was clearly a tenor saxophone, and he playing it, some jazz song she couldn't identify. Opening the elevator door with some difficulty, the booze swimming through her head, she couldn't hold back her smile; tonight, she'd be able to goof off with the domestic, get even more drunk by saying, "I never killed a man," and than taking a gigantic sip, not stopping until she passed out, bottle still in her hand. But not now, right now Columbia had to focus. She slammed the grate shut, shushing herself, and bursting into giggles. Edward looked up, alarmed. He brandished the saxophone as she came closer, but she just laughed. Than, it registered in his mind:

"You're drunk."

"No shi' Sherlock, and you-you're fat."

He glared at her, before sitting back down and resuming his playing. She giggled some more, before plopping down clumsily in next to him. He ignored her, tapping at the little button-like levers that produced the strangely soothing sound.

"Whatcha playin'?"

He didn't answer her, just closed his eyes, fingers going where memory told them too. She didn't like that; he wasn't following the master plan. Prodding him with a finger, she didn't stop the rapid poking until he growled, took his mouth away from the mouthpiece and spat, "What?" at her. That scared her, the loud noise echoed in her head. She shrank her head back, eyes widening with fear. She assumed she looked adorable, because he crumbled, eyes softening, and he looked for words that would comfort her.

"Hey now, it's okay," his voice was gentle, but strained, like he didn't want it to be. "Look-I'm sorry."

She smiled, because just like that, he had lost, she had won, and the plan was back on track. She let her teeth show, knew they weren't quite that white, but her wiggly-drawn on eyebrows and naturally-cherry red bow lips were perfection, done up in boredom. And she knew, intoxicated as she was; that she could make him melt, than make him hurt. All she really had to do was lean in, and (what else?) kiss him.

He returned it sloppily; she could feel him shaking from the events of the day. He had cut his lip somehow, the blood dripped into her mouth. It was sodomy, it was delicious. She almost giggled while they were connected, barely kept the glee of her plan at bay. It just seemed so ridiculous, rolling around in her mind, totally shitfaced. She couldn't help it anymore, laughter rippled out of her mouth, she broke away. Edward looked embarrassed, wiped the blood off his mouth, and stared at her strangely.

"You okay?"

"Yes Edward I'm-"

"Eddie."

"What?"

"My name's Eddie," he said in his southern accent. Columbia repeated the word out loud, getting a feel of it. It seemed to make him human, he really did seem like an Eddie. And just like that, the plan was (possibly) more defined. Maybe flirt with him, than slit his throat? She was about to bat her eyelashes, make him like her. Unfortunately, he noticed something. Something sharp, and steel, and shiny.

"What are you doing with those scissors?"

She saw the fear flash in his eyes, she felt a little bit bad that he knew that she wanted to hurt him, give him a mental mind fuck. So, collecting her thoughts, she shook her head, one time too many.

"Nah, nah, I jus' wan'ed to spiff ya up a bit. Here, take off ya jacket."

She didn't know why he obeyed, he just did, noticing his shirt proclaimed "Eddie." _Snip snip snip,_ the thick leather sleeves were cut to the ground, and she was seemingly getting away with her lie. Handing it back to him, she silently thought about how she still wanted him dead, but after she got some reckless, regrettable rebound action. So, Columbia puckered her lips, and leaned in to a kiss that Eddie immediately returned. There was no giggling this time; she just threw herself at him, while wondering why she didn't take up acting along with groupie-ing. The thought didn't even cross her mind that she was actually enjoying it, actually feeling chemistry. Only two things bothered her; the blood had dried, but he was still sloppy. Breaking away, she waggled a finger.

"Nah, ya don' kiss like tha'!"

"Well, you taste like Smirnoff!"

"But thas' not a ba' thin'."

He actually chuckled, looked at her, before breaking the gaze and scratching at his thick, now bare arm. Eddie seemed to want to ask, or tell her something, but every time he opened his mouth, he burned scarlet.

"C'mon Eddie…you can tell meh!"

She took his chin, and pried it upward, giving him another charming, drunk smile. He sighed, than returned the smile, sober.

"Than teach me. You're name's Columbia right?"

She nodded, trying not to break his sincere gaze.

"Than teach me Columbia."

So she did, bringing her smooth lips against his chapped ones, moving them together in sync, slowly and wetly. She hated to think that it was sending shivers up her spine. _'Rebound, I'm feeling rebound,' _she told herself, too drunk to debate with herself. She felt them falling over, against the ground, rolling over; their tongues wriggling to find each other. Columbia felt something close to arousal; now that he was kissing properly it really was quite enjoyable. She let out a drunken moan, thoughts swimming way too fast through her intoxicated mind. Eddie bit her lip, tugging at it. She let out a squeak like a mouse, which sent them off in gales of laughter.

"So, maybe you're not a bitch after all."

"Maybe…maybe not."

Columbia winked at him, the euphoria, chemistry and vodka making her tingly all over. Not once did her (now ex) sweet transvestite cross her mind, she temporarily forgot that the kissing was a plan as his sweaty hands groped her petite body greedily. They were creating a symphony of pleasured sounds, making her spine arch, making her toes tingle. Than, another sound mixed in with the symphony. A thick English accent that made the feelings freeze.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

X.x.x.x.X

If you read it, than review it. It's like the caffeine I can't have. It keeps me going!


	4. There's A Light in the Darkness

Writing this from the library's computer, so I'll actually be able to write without family members going "Are you done yet?" Ugh.

X.x.x.x.X

Frank-N-Furter loomed over them, face expressing shock and disgust. He was wearing a cheetah print miniskirt, the usual ripped stockings, and a hot pink halter-top. It was the seventies, anything went. But Columbia didn't notice what he was wearing; she just scrambled away from Eddie, the tingling sensations gone. Her eyes welled with tears, and her shoulders shook, and she felt sick. How could her Frankie understand that she was just giving Eddie some mental mind fuck; that she was his, only his, forever his? Could she explain it to him, without letting Eddie know that he was going to be put through pain in the end of her seduction?

"Frankie-I didn't-it didn't-I swear-"

He held up a perfectly manicured hand to silence her. His eyes burned into her weeping ones, going back and forth between his former groupie's and the new specimen. Shaking out his messy curls, he strut over to Eddie, a deviant smile playing at his ruby-red lips. Kneeling down to greaser, he pulled at the shirt with "Eddie" on it, pulling him foreword, towards his hungry face. Frank-N-Furter kissed the specimen, ignoring the muffled protests from Eddie's mouth, and his struggle to get away. Columbia's heart stopped, seeing _her _transvestite with someone else-someone else she just spent half an hour drunkenly groping no less!-made the sickness overwhelm her, the tears flow more heavily. She groaned at the visual train wreck, not able to look away from the two men, one struggling, and the other enjoying the awkwardness.

"My my," Frank growled when Eddie finally succeeded in pulling away from the doctor. Turning to the groupie, he winked. "You taught him some new tricks darling. Too bad you won't be able to experience his…performance. Get out. I need to run some…tests." Eddie groaned, knowing fully that the "tests" would involve plenty of nudity and bits and pieces going where he didn't want them to go. Columbia finally was able to tear her gaze away, and scurry (ashamed) to the lift. It couldn't go down fast enough.

X.x.x.x.X

"How did it go?"

"I'm working on it!"

She found Magenta in their room, smoking a cigarette and "reading" what looked like an old fashioned centerfold. Shaking her head, she also found that she was coming down from her buzz, and everything was becoming much more real. _'Now I'll never get him back. Stupid, stupid! Columbia.' _she chided herself, plopping down next to the domestic, and stealing the cigarette away for a drag. _'I just fooled around with someone he's fooling around, and that never ends well…" _It was one of those moments she wished Magenta could be a little more talkative, and ask what the hell went wrong. But no, she was too busy staring at May West's gifted chest, and poisoning her lungs. Moaning, she kicked her feet like a child, in the air. The silence went on, during which Columbia figured out that she was, quite simply: screwed.

"C'mon now, ask me how the plan turned to shit."

"I do not have to. I know already."

"Yeah? What happened?"

"Frankie caught you seducing Edward," she said in a monotone voice, a thin, know it all smile at her lips. She didn't even look up from the pin-up girls, just casually took another drag, putting it out on a bed knob. Columbia rolled her eyes, but mainly ignored it to pry for details.

"How'd ya know?"

"I see all."

"Oh shit," she laughed wryly, lighting the domestic's new cigarette, and stealing it again. She coughed, a light smoker who never really got the hang of the whole inhale, exhale, look cool and causal bit. For the second time that night, Magenta snickered, but her eyes still didn't leave the pornography. Handing it back, the maid proceeded to shame her, taking a long breath of smoke, and blow out numerous rings. The groupie wrinkled her nose, trying not to be impressed.

"Oh, 'Genta, what the hell am I gonna do?" She whined, before getting up and slipping off the slip-dress, and rolling down the fishnets. Underneath were boy-cut, hot pink panties to rival Frank's halter-top. That got Magenta's attention. She actually put the magazine down, crushed the cigarette, and got up, a strong, lustful look in her eyes. Columbia suspected she knew what was about to unfold, but she wasn't in the mood. She was practically sober, her endorphin-high had crashed when Frankie left her, and than caught her. A messy girl's gone wind night wasn't what she wanted.

"No, 'Genta…not tonight. I just wanna go to bed."

The maid took another few steps, eyeing Columbia's nearly naked body, taking it in with such a powerful gaze, the groupie almost felt violated.

"Ma-Gent-A! Earth to you; some other time when life doesn't suck some damn much." The usually apathetic domestic shrugged, and Columbia suspected she saw a glint of hurt in her friend's eyes. Mentally kicking herself for not "being in the mood," she put on her flannel pajamas, and beloved Mickey Mouse Ears. She'd sleep with her makeup on, as she did almost every night. Snuggling up to the maid, she put her arm around her in a friendly gesture, The Transylvanian shrugged it off, and was now chain smoking, and staring devotedly to Bettie Page's naked body. Taking a hint, Columbia climbed towards her own rickety bed, knowing that tonight unlike most nights-she would be sleeping alone.

Her dreams were more like nightmares; recounting all the sins of the flesh she had done the previous days. Going from twelve A.M to twelve A.M, she had slept with one transvestite alien (at least a dozen times, no less) kissed and shot down a domestic alien (who was her best friend) and screwed around with the transvestite's human toy, and unwilling lover. Even in her sleep, she could hear Eddie's cries of protest, and right before she fell asleep, she felt a stab of pity for the greaser. _'Now I just need to piss of Riff, and I'll be blasted by that laser he's always muttering about," _she thought cynically, wondering how one day could be such a roller coaster of emotion.

X.x.x.x.X

"C'lumbia! Help me!"

Eddie's voice echoed in her ears. She was on a boat, and it was stormy. In the near distance were rocks, with dozens of Frank's, all glammed up, and their makeup not smudging, despite the rain. They had a golden, sparkling net, shimmering and they were pulling Eddie in. He wore his newly armless jacket, and his rebel-getup, but the terror in his face practically blinded her, making her heart thunder like the storm around her. She jumped in, trying to rage against the storms, loosing before she even got close. He screamed for her, pronouncing her name differently than he had when she wasn't dreaming, leaving out the "O." He pleaded for her, but the hundreds of Frank's (the number seemed so double by the second) cried out, pulling, seemingly effortlessly. "C'lumbia! C'lumbia! C'lumbia! Why can't you save me?"

X.x.x.x.X

She woke up abruptly, tangled in the ratty sheets. Her heart pounded mercilessly, and sweat made her milky skin glisten. There were also tears in her eyes, and she wanted someone, anyone to comfort her in the darkness where there didn't seem to be any light. She huddled together, trying to curl her no longer endless, now burgundy hair. But her shoulders were bare, and her whole body felt sticky, and sinful. She needed a shower, but the dream of the ocean made her feel like she'd going drowning down the drain. She settled on a drink of water, and stumbled out of bed, noticing a mild hangover for the first time. Whimpering, she walked timidly down the stairs, tripping in the darkness. She _almost _knew the house by heart, _almost _knew where every nook and cranny was; but once and a while she'd get a surprise, like she did right than.

It was at the end of a hall with doors, lots of doors, and she had been in most of them. But this one was locked, had been in the months she had been there. So when strange sounds came out from the cracks, and a thin light filtered out, curiosity got the better of her, and her quest for water was abandoned. Turning the old brass knob, she found a small windowless room, with candlelights, an old mattress, and some chains.

And of course, Eddie.


	5. A Planned Seduction Plan

Cookies for all who have, and will review! 3

X.x.x.x.X

Eddie looked up from the beat-up mattress, his arms latched in rusty chains like the ones in Frank-N-Furter's room. His body was sprawled out, but his arms hung limply above him, suspended by the binds. His expression was apathetic; it was hard to tell whether he felt guilty for the further damaging of Columbia and Frank's relationship, even though part of her knew it wasn't his fault. Not that she would ever admit it. Walking in quietly, and shutting the door, she noticed a rusty key to match the rusty shackles. "Here, lemme," she muttered, sweaty hand brushing against his.

"Thanks," he wrung his hands out, mumbling about how they fell asleep, before stopping and grabbing her tiny hand. "You're shaking…and you're soaked," Eddie's tired eyes showed genuine concern, and it touched her. She couldn't shake the dream though; it kept popping into her mind. She sunk down onto the bumpy mattress, burying her face in her hands; they kept slipping downward from the sweat. She groaned, falling backwards, spreading her arms wide, one hanging off the "bed."

"You okay?"

"Ugh, not even close. Nightmares, angry domestics, I think I'm really good at being a fuck up. Could do it professionally maybe, if I ever get out of here; I could quit being a groupie and just…fuck things up for the rest of my li-"

"Columbia! Columbia!"

"What?" She asked, eyes fluttering open and shut every second, rhythmic to her heartbeat. It was still racing rapidly, she put a hand over her chest, feeling it ricochet off her ribs.

"Nothin', you're just…ramblin'."

"Yeah, yeah, I do that sometimes."

_Flop. _Now Eddie was lying down, arms at his side, looking at her. His hair was disheveled and there were traces of sinister lipstick on his chin, he didn't look all that happy either. Her moaned too, muttering something about how he wasn't some "fucking faggot." Columbia felt too numb to tell him off, just turned her head to him, her tears sliding sideways down her face. She didn't want to think about Frank and Eddie fucking, but the image kept flashing in her head, vivid, somehow more horrifying than the fact that she was crying in front of him.

"We should just…get out."

She laughed at his comment, shook her head and brushed away the tears. She felt the kohl drying down her cheeks, mixing with the rouge and dirt.

"Yeah, good luck with that Ed. If anyone should get out, it's me. I don't think I can be around Frankie forever, and never touch him and-"

"I could."

Columbia huffed in an offended manner, and rolled over, now facing the door. She heard Eddie sigh; she knew he was already getting sick of her antics. Sniffling again, she curled up; telling herself to get up, get out. But the greaser apparently wouldn't let her go without knowing more.

"So, this…guy. Girl? Was he-she?- your boy…girl…boyfriend?"

"Until you came along, I guess you could call us close!"

She squealed the last part; turning to look at him, shoot imaginary, bitter daggers. He looked slightly wilted-she wasn't cooperating- and being a perfect little bitch in way that was so Columbia. She tried to soften, she really did, but the hate was boiling over once again. She felt a thick hand on her shoulder; she couldn't will herself to move it.

"Look, Columbia…I didn't choose to come here. Until two days ago, I was a delivery boy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they called me up and asked for pineapple pizza, with bits of horse, and seemed kinda pissed when we didn't have…horse. And I got here, and that Frank guy shackles me up and…does things to me…and wants to use my brain to make what seems to be a sex toy. " His words drizzled off and he blushed as Columbia turned around, her round face softening.

"So, you didn't intentionally steal him from me?"

"Oh, no. Not a chance….hey!" His eyes lit up, a definite grin playing at his mouth. "What if we get you guys back together?"

Her eyes widened, and she threw her arms around Eddie, squeezing him as tight as she possibly could. She heard him snort with amusement, so mustered even more energy to hug him. Columbia couldn't help but notice the smell of hair oil, sweat, grease, and a tiny bit of Chanel wavering around him. _'If we get this right, I'll be the one smelling like N. 5!' _she squealed in her head, finally letting go of the greaser, and looking at him with admiration.

"You're a genius Ed! Now all we need is a plan."

"Well, how 'bout you seduce him, and I try my hardest not to let him fuck me?"

"First part's gold, but Frankie likes a challenge; resistin'll just rev him up even more. You'll probably have to give yourself over, and not make to much noise. He responds to people making a racket, he feeds on chaos…just think. If me and him get back together, he wouldn't need a plaything…I can be his plaything!" She swooned, getting a faraway look in her smudged eyes.

Eddie groaned, and mock bashed his head against the wall. Columbia chuckled, marveling over how someone could not want to jump into bed with the sweetest transvestite the world had ever seen. But she couldn't concentrate on it than, she had to clarify everything.

"So, you'll do it?"

"Will sleeping with him get me out of here?"

"It better!"

Eddie let out a long sullen sigh, than looked her in the eye, certain fear in them.

"And you can't think of another way?"

"Can you?"

He sighed again; eye contact stopping, and he stared very intently at the wall. Columbia thought she could see his heavy frame shaking.

"Alright…I'll give it two weeks, and if it doesn't work, we'll revisit the plan. Ok?"

"Oh, alright."

"This better work."

"Oh, relax, Frankie loves me. It'll be a cinch. 'Kay?"

Turning to Eddie, she saw him slumped over the wall, asleep. He looked gentle, with a certain softness in his smile. Given any other circumstance, she would've felt some attraction, and want to cuddle up with him. But the idea of Frank being seduced by her was too much, so she got up from the lumpy mattress and left the "cell," forgetting the glass of water she wanted a few minutes ago.

X.x.x.x.X

I'm back, I'm sorry! I've been busy, and sick, and just…well, here's your chapter! Hopefully the next one will be out sooner. Reviews inspire me people!

Hehe, because Frank would never resist someone seducing him…


	6. Black Sheets to Hide In

See, I can write chapters fast! Enjoy my babies.

X.x.x.x.X

The next morning left Columbia tired and sensitive to light-after leaving Eddie, she curled up in the Zen Room, using the Transsexual drugs to sedate her even more so-but in high spirits. She was going to win her Frankie back after all! To her, it didn't matter that Magenta changed the locks on their bedroom door, or that she and her rather creepy brother sat as far away from her as possible in the dining room, shooting demonic looks at her all through breakfast. She didn't give a damn that she had to open the bedroom door with a paperclip, or that there was a small cindering red slip dress in the corner. She just slipped on a tight PVC cerise bustier with silver sequins and rhinestones, black leather pants that showed off every curve, and platform Mary Jane's that made at least three inches taller, and scampered out of the room before the domestic found her and decided to make a fire out of a groupie.

"Oh!"

"Eee!"

She smacked into the chest of the transvestite she was looking for, and found herself on the ground after seeing a while light. Rubbing her head, and mussing up her hair, she blushed at Frank, who was wincing in pain.

"Oh"

He seemed to realize whom he had run into, and looked uncomfortable, but Columbia couldn't help but feel his eyes run over her body, getting a hungry look. They slowly got up, their eyes locked, and Columbia had flashbacks off all the days and nights of passion, the sweat, the kisses that would leave marks for days, the feeling of flesh and friction…

X.x.x.x.X

"Ooh Frankie, hehe, that was _amazing,_" she lit a cigarette, letting the ashes fall onto the crimson sheets, into the tears, and onto her skin. She was immune. She was elated. Her wrists were rubbed raw, she had numerous dark splotches on her skin were his mouth had attacked and made beautiful, and that was her ecstasy. She laced her free hand under the covers, dominating him as much as she could. He let out that moan she loved so much, rolling and laughter like, weighted with carelessness. Every time a sound escaped his perfect lips, she told herself she was leaving her mark, making herself unforgettable to him.

Or so she thought.

He spilled out over her fist, and a grin spread across her face, removing her hand from under the covers, and wiping them on the sheets. They matched the numerous other faded spots, not all from Columbia, but she'd never admit it to herself. She just finished her cigarette, watched him begin to chain smoke, and felt that pull towards him that grew stronger with each time they fooled around. Closing her eyes, she felt his manicured hands slowly roam around her lithe body, the smoke filling her mouth, his tongue making her skin moist and slick. _'I can't believe I went a day without this!' _She marveled, almost reaching her peek and crying out to prove her satisfaction.

Than, all the touching stopped, but her body was heated, and wanted to finish.

"Where ya goin' darling?"

"Oh, I've got some tests to run; in the lab. Show yourself out?"

Already he had pulled on a fiery red club dress, with part of the middle cut out, spider web fishnets, and platforms with a tiny black spiky heel, and clear plastic up to the knee, lacing up with black ribbons. Columbia knew him too well to wonder if he was wearing underwear, and whimpered as he left the room without an answer. Denial sunk in like pirate's treasure, and her eyes welled up sea.

She was torn. Stay under the covers, smelling the Chanel and remember the other ninety four days that he had taken her to the moon, to her happiness, thrilled her, chilled her, fulfilled her, or, cry in the swimming pool, while maybe (hopefully?) accidentally-on-purposely drown?

X.x.x.x.X

_SPLASH._

Before the sex, drugs, and rock and roll, she was a swimmer. Her parents always said so, when they weren't too busy fighting (both of them) drinking (her father) or attending cocktail parties (her mother) to notice. Although, she'd give her mother credit, without the Denton Country Club pool, she probably would've been at home discovering pot two years earlier, and losing her virginity to the neighbor boy at thirteen instead of fifteen. _Fifteen. _That was when reality started to melt away, the night of her first rock concert. She couldn't even remember who it was, just that a friend loved them and wanted her to tag along, "break loose." She did; taking numerous hits from joints, and finding the neighbor boy in the sea of druggies and rockers. They did it in the mosh pit, though nothing ever came of it, other than other drunken nights in the bushes between their houses. _Fifteen. _Her parents divorced that year, and she stayed with her dad, simply because he lacked the tools to supervise, or care about her increasingly wild antics.

Dropped out at sixteen. Cut off contact with her mother, and that was when the Country Club pool days stopped.

Tried every drug in the book by seventeen. Was halfway there with the quest to try every martini known to North America.

By nineteen, she'd been around the country, professional groupie as a full time job. Following a band on tour when you were attractive was surprisingly easy, and with so many rockers' libido in full swing, it wasn't hard to find a bed to crash in at night.

Sometimes she wondered if the four months she had spent at the castle were simply a drug induced coma that she could never wake up from. Pulling herself out of the water, she untied her bathing cap and shook out her shock of burgundy hair. Water drizzled down her strangely covered body, the old fashioned Pin-Up black and white striped swimsuit that she found in the house's many closets, but she felt naked. Her eyes burned, the mixture of water and chlorine bringing even more tears to them. _'So today didn't go as planned…I have two more weeks to make him forget all about Eddie, and the building a man project. Right?' _At that moment, she wished Magenta was there to tell her yes, and do her makeup right while they smoked and gossiped about the men in their lives. Sure, it basically was Magenta being weirdly sensual about her creepy brother, and she, Columbia, gushing about the wonders of Frank-N-Furter, but it was nice. Magenta was like a sister, wife, and lover rolled into one frizzy haired domestic, and Columbia missed her. And she knew what she had to do. She'd put off seducing her sweet transvestite to gain back her gal pal

X.x.x.x.X

She reeked of chlorine, but she knew Magenta would never care. Standing outside the bedroom door, she stared at her bare feet, trying to distract herself by thinking about how they needed painting. _'Black…or maybe green,' _Columbia shrugged away hesitation and knocked, hearing the faint _click click _of the domestic's stiletto boots.

"Oh…it is you. Vhat do you vant?"

No answer, just pushing the door open with a boldness she didn't know she possessed, Columbia made sure their lips met in a deep kiss, making the domestic's eyes widen, and a smile appear on both their lips as they broke apart.

"Ooh…"

"Yeah."

Magenta got that powerful look in her eyes again, like she did the night before. This time, Columbia didn't feel like she was trespassing, she just felt like she needed a friendly hand, and the maid needed action. Clothes flew off, and Frank's marks were ignored, and shamed by the fierce mouth of the domestic. Columbia lay there on Magenta's bed, their bed, and knew when to give the appropriate "Oohs" and "Ahhs!" letting her friend, her non committed lover take her mind off the plan-sort of. Every so often, she would be in the middle of complete ecstasy when a curly haired transvestite would wander across her mind, and the want for Frankie's kisses was overwhelming, she'd throw out an "Oh!" That Magenta took as pleasure.

She was nearly there; feeling the climax, fit to burst any second when somebody completely different popped into her mind.

"Eddie!"

Magenta didn't hear the surprise in her voice, just stopped, her breathing heavy and her tight curls in her face. Scrambling to get clothes on, Columbia simply draped a sheet over her naked body, face burning scarlet.

"Mag, I don't know how that-"

"Get out."

"No, Genta, my brain just got scrambled, I-"

"OUT!"

The anger in her voice, her accent stronger when her voice was more powerful, it made Columbia flinch, and eyes widen. She just grabbed the black sheet and ran, feeling that if she had a tail, it would be between her legs.

"And shut the door!"

Columbia did as she was told, marveling at how all the good feelings that were there five minutes ago were masked with shame, and loneliness. Walking with her head to the ground, and occasionally tripping on the sheet, causing another hole to birth, she felt even more lost than ever. Than, the morning in the corridor seemed to repeat itself.

"Oh!"

"Oof!"

He was wearing his cape; it fanned out around him the way the sheet did to her. They made eye contact, and it made Columbia's pulse race all over again. Sniffling away tears, she cloaked herself again, and took his offered hand to pull her up. The touch made a schoolgirl grin spread across her face; she looked down at her feet hidden under black satin sheet.

"F-frankie," she stammered, taking shy glances at him. Her smirked in his most charming way, making her swoon once more.

"Yes, darling? Come now, spit it out."

"Can I…can I spend the night?"

"Like you even had to ask; come now."

"You mean it?" She dried her eyes immediately, pinching herself under the sheet to see if she was dreaming. Luckily, she wasn't.

"Yes, of course. Besides, a threesome's always fun."

"Threesome?"

She spoke just as they got to his bedroom, and Frank opened the door, revealing a shackled, yet clothed Eddie.

X.x.x.x.X

Oh, shall she stay or go on with the threesome? Aren't you just shivering with Antici….pation?

Review. Seriously fellow Rocky-obsessed fans, getting reviews makes me inspired, makes me wanna hammer out the next chapter. So, please? Cookies for all who do, this week: The Snickerdoodle.


	7. Erratic Heartbeat

"You coming darling?"

"Yeah…o-of course."

Columbia clung to the sheet, feeling very naked despite it covering everything. Creeping forward, she climbed onto the canopied bed, as far away from Eddie as possible. Everything was moving very slowly around her, while her mind was moving very fast. She wasn't sure what was happening, she only knew one thing: She did _not _want to see Eddie the greaser naked, or him see her, Columbia the groupie, without clothes either. She heard the dull sound of fabric hit the floor, and Frank get onto the bed, clad in a metallic purple dress, and not much else. Propping his head up on a manicured hand, he raised an eyebrow lazily.

"Well?"

"Well, what….Frankie?"

"Well," his lip curled, a finger played with a stray curl. "Since you two hit it off so…smashingly last night, why don't you two start, and I join in when I see fit?"

"Oh." He nodded, and Columbia felt everything move even slower. It didn't occur to her that Frank was getting sadistic revenge, just that she wanted to make him happy. _'What Frankie wants, Frankie gets; even if it does mean fooling around with Eddie…sober.' _Crawling over to the specimen, clutching the black sheet around her protectively, she was well aware that she was shaking as she lay down next to him. He still hadn't said anything; eyes just flickered to the other two people in the room. Frank didn't say anything either, just stared with devil eyes, the eyes that had gotten her hooked in the first place. Very slowly, Columbia inched atop Eddie, making sure the blanket cloaked every inch of her. She could feel the green sparkly lettering of his name against the sheet; even feel his heart beat against her own chest. She felt her body sink down into his flesh, and the sharp, but not uncomfortable intake of breath he took. Their eyes locked, and suddenly, Frank was pushed into a far corner of her mind. Inching down to his face, coaxing herself to just get it over with, Columbia took a shaky breath and leaned in.

It was nothing like the night before.

Her lips tasted like the chlorine she had swallowed, and her breath was sour, she was curdling him with her kisses. His lips were chapped, and he tasted like liquor and pot. Still, she decided she liked how the unclean flavors mixed and mingled, how her collarbone knocked against his slingshot, sure to leave a red temporary mark. Columbia didn't think as she moved her lips in sync to Eddie's, didn't think about what she was doing, just knowing that it was good, it was right. For the first time in four months, Frank wasn't her main focus, wasn't what she was thinking about.

"Mmm…"

It was the soft sound that threw her, brought her back to reality, the noise that came through Eddie's lips that made her snap back to reality. She rolled off his heavyset frame, pulling the black sheet ever closer, eyes wide and full of regret. She couldn't even look at Frank, just dashed out of the room, feeling a different kind of dirty than she was used to.

X.x.x.x.X

Steam, and water pouring down her body, droplets clinging, than falling down the drain. Columbia wasn't good with time, each day at the castle meant reality loosing its grip, time warping itself and numbers seeming dreamlike. Some days she wondered if she was really twenty-three, or if she had been born the first time Frank had laid eyes on her. When his seemingly sincere lust captured her, turned her inside out, nothing really mattered. Every waking minute, every sensual daydream, and erotic nightmare-it was all about him. Until that kiss.

"Eddie, how could you come and fuck everything up?"

"I'm not trying to."

She spun around, seeing a distorted figure through the thick steam. He was there; Eddie was there, without his leather jacket, shoes, or belt. There were lipstick smears all over her neck and face, and there were several tears in his shirt. A noticeable amount of glitter had fallen off the "Eddie" on it. Hairs eschew, and his slingshot was missing, he looked a mess. Columbia tried desperately to say something back, but hid behind the shower curtain, wanting him to go away, and come closer at the same time. He unknowingly chose the latter, walking forward with his hands in his pocket. She noticed a demented smile on his face, and saw his left arm had noticeable purplish veins.

"You're high."

"Eh, not really."

Columbia stepped out, leaving the shower running, and wrapped a matted lavender towel around her. Neither of them moved, Eddie's eyes were out of focus, and she was torn between making him leave, or invite him to take his clothes off and step into the shower with her. She knew his heart would be erratic, the smack would be to blame, but hers felt just as crazy. _'I can't like Eddie,' _she commanded to herself, biting her lower lip until tiny spurts of blood drizzled out. _'He's running everything; he's sleeping with Frankie, when I should be. He's using heroin and getting my sweet transvestite's lipstick all over him. That's my job!' _But she couldn't deny that Eddie looked dangerously good, with the misty steam smoldering around them, everything warm except for the cold tears splashing down her face. The truth was winning over the lies: She wanted to kiss Eddie again, wanted to be wanted; wanted someone who didn't walk all over her.

"Oh, no, don't cry," he couldn't have used that much, or had built up a high tolerance because his face was immediately concerned, and he stepped forward, taking a large hand, attached to the arm without the purple veins, and wiped away her tears. Nobody had ever done that for her before, and she (unfortunately) melted.

Columbia climbed back into the lion claw tub, standing up against the wall, but miserably slumped down to the bottom, curling up and feeling like she was in the middle of a very bad dream. The chlorine that had stung her eyes early that day was nothing now, the tears-they were cold and she wondered why-hit her face and slid down with the showers pulsing stream, down the drain, as if they never occurred. Her eyes were closed, but she heard the sound of someone climbing into the tub with her, wrapping his thick arms around her and whispering "Shhs" and promises that everything would be all right. _'Why couldn't Frankie ever do this to me?' _she wondered hopelessly, clinging to Eddie like a helpless infant. Her shoulders shook, and the towel fall down around him, but she felt very naked in a different way.

"Keep me safe from my trouble and pain…"

She wasn't sure if he heard her over the water, or whether the words were making sense above the sobs, and hiccups. But he held her closer, and kissed her temple quickly. It wasn't romantic, it was reassuring to her, and she welcomed the shivers that went down her back as he brushed wet strands of hair out of her eyes. Columbia felt her body rocking back and fourth, felt Eddie's irregular heartbeat against her back, felt something she had never really felt before: Pulled out of the ocean of her life, she was saved, secured…for the time being.

"It'll be alright C'lumbia."

She was too busy being saved to notice the difference.

X.x.x.x.X

And so the romance begins! I know, it's a sappy chapter, and of course, Frank's not far from the picture. Still many more chapters to come, I might even have a couple scenes with Riff thrown in because people like him…he was wrong! "We like you! We've always liked you!" Yeah, shhh. 'Nough cookies for me, but many more for you _IF _you review.


	8. As Horrific As A White Plastic Belt

No reviews? Hmph. Guess I'll have to eat all the cookies myself. Nah, I'm just joking.

X.x.x.x.X

"I gotta go. He'll be wondering where I am."

"Oh…okay." She let go slowly, and turned off the showerhead, while bringing the towel up to cover her. He noticed the fear in her eyes, the different way she looked at him.

"But hey-come by my room later. I have more smack, it'll make you feel better."

"Oh, okay."

He got out of the bath, wet clothes clinging to him, and walked out the door, making her feel very alone, but shivering with cold and anticipation from his invitation.

X.x.x.x.X

Luck was on her side, for the time being. Something had gone wrong in the lab, the Deep Freeze light kept going off and beeping, while the kitchen's boiler wasn't working. So, while the handyman was in off fixing the light, and the domestic was wrestling with something she had little experience with, the groupie had the whole second floor to herself. Still, Columbia kept wincing at every mouse scuttling and squeaking, and looked over her shoulder every few seconds as she picked her bedroom's lock.

The shreds of the wall-sized Frank-N-Furter face had been removed, leaving a plain black wall. A pang of longing seized her for a second, before going to the closet, desperate to look her best. Every corset seemed to eager, every miniskirt too flirty. _'No,' _she chided herself, throwing a striped, ribbed dress to the floor, _'He can't ever, EVER know how I feel.' _ Sighing impatiently, she grabbed a pair of bellbottoms with patches all over and were a perfect fit. Digging farther in, she couldn't seem to find anything and finally settled on a completely sequined bustier. Threading a white plastic belt through the loops on the pants, she looked in the mirror nervously.

"Okay…I look okay…" she mumbled, throwing on a pair of ran stockings. "I look casual, not too slutty, he won't know how I feel. Hopefully." Making whimpering sounds, she threw herself onto her too small bed, kicking her feet into the air. Rolling off, she landed in a heap on the ground, heart pounding for more than one reason. She had landed on cigarette butts and pillows with goose feathers sticking out, pricking at her sharply. She leapt up, a thin sheen of forming over her body, a cocoon of vapid, confused emotion. She was in no mood to doll herself up with makeup, but knew she would do so anyway.

X.x.x.x.X

_Knock knock knock._

She felt stupid, knowing he wouldn't answer, the chains were on. Still, Columbia squirmed and didn't lift her hand to turn the knob until she heard a hushed, "C'mon in."

'_I can just walk away, tell him I heard somebody coming and just decided to play it safe,' _but the part of her that wanted to see Eddie, talk to Eddie, kiss Eddie-the bad part, the scary part-won over.

She walked in shaking, could barely undo his chains. Sitting down on his bed, Columbia held out an arm stiffly, her left one. It was the arm she always shot up with, out of habit. She had done smack a few times before, she was a groupie after all. When a rock star offered you drugs, you took them. When a rock star felt you up, you let him. It was just the way it went, _'Why should this be any different?' _ True, if there was any feeling up, she would probably be the insinuator, but every time Eddie brushed her skin, took the needle and pricked her with it, it felt so tingly, so wonderful that Columbia couldn't imagine going much longer without it. Shooting him up wordlessly, she could no longer deny that just being with Eddie was intoxicating, even before the heroin took effect, she was high.

Whatever they had taken was definitely stronger than what Eddie had had before. It didn't take long for her already fast heartbeat to pump rapidly, her body to feel heavy, and her mouth to loose all wetness. Still, she couldn't help but let out a high pitched laugh, and let a wide spread smile on her face. Suddenly, liking Eddie didn't feel so frightening, didn't feel horrible. He was less than a foot away from her, and her crush on him was so…amazing that she felt like shouting it from the rooftop of the castle. It was bottling up inside of her; she had to let it out somehow. _'It wouldn't be so bad,' _she laughed out loud at the thought, _'if I kissed him…just a little bit. Just once…'_

X.x.x.x.X

Everything about sleeping with Eddie was different than sleeping with Frank. With Frank, she felt helpless (in a good way) and let him do whatever he pleased, knowing that if she complained that it hurt, he wouldn't stop. Eddie would. While Frank smirked, knowing how much she wanted him, Eddie grinned because he was eager, something the transvestite never showed with her. Fumbling with her white plastic belt, the greaser was gentle but sloppy; it was much more real than the fantasy she had grown accustomed to. He wasn't unbelievably skilled, didn't quite know how to make her climax quite as fast, but there was something good and new about this sex. With Eddie, there were words ("You sure this doesn't hurt?) There were animalistic grunts ("Uh!") and it didn't seem like he was out to prove what a fantastic lover he was. The biker was clumsy and still needed practice, but he provided Columbia with a sensation she wasn't quite sure what to call. He didn't simper when she came, like Frank would, proud that he had that effect over someone. Eddie just finished and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her gently on the forehead.

X.x.x.x.X

"Wow…"

"Yeah…"

The heroin rush was coming down, but they still had smiles on their face. Everything bad seemed good again, and Columbia desperately wanted to spend the night. She knew she couldn't, so just kissed Eddie with her lipstick glazed mouth-the baby pink color that she usually thought of as too sweet for her-grinning like a schoolgirl when he moaned softly, asking her in a breathy voice to do it again. She complied, a giddy feeling bubbling over her, staying even as she pranced up the stairs. The euphoria faded however, when she saw Frank.

He was heading towards the elevator with Riff Raff at his side. Hiding in the shadows, getting cobwebs in her hair, Columbia could overhear their hushed voices.

"Now, listen here. I've gotten most of it figured out, but soon, we're going to need…anatomy."

"How so, Master?"

An impatient sigh came from the transvestite, shaking out his black curls as it did. "You and your sister. Very soon. You'll go to the Denton cemetery and…dig around for a bit?" He posed it as a question, although Columbia and the handyman knew it wasn't.

"And than what…Master?"

"Than you'll assist me in the…assembly and the surgery, Eddie will be stored for future use, and…" Frank laughed in a way that seemed almost a giggle; while Columbia's face contorted to horror "…my creation will live…born!"

The handyman posed a question, but by than they were in the lift, going up so Frank could further his discovery of the secret of life, while Columbia felt like her stomach was dropping out of her. She knew what the surgery was. She knew what was going to happen to Eddie.

X.x.x.x.X

Oh, the horrors! I know, the end is coming, but it won't be for what I would imagine another 5+ chapters. Many more things to fill in after all.


	9. And Nothing Will Ever Be The Same Again

Over ten reviews! Kisses for all you orgy-rikic people!

X.x.x.x.X

The regret didn't hit Columbia until the second time she slept with Eddie. She had tried to go to bed -sleeping under the sink, since that was where the strongest liquor was-but she couldn't fall asleep without horrible dreams haunting her. After being jarred awake the third time (Eddie's head rolling to her feet, and shrieking gibberish) she slipped out of the shadows and crept through the Zen Room, the "Chamber" that she was too afraid to go into during the day-whips and torture devices were much too detailed for her in sunlight-and of course, the entrance hall. The clock chimed thirteen times, causing the hairs to stand up on her neck. It was always spooky going through the castle at night, especially when she had to deliver bad news.

Creaking the door open, Eddie lay on her bad, humming a tune she couldn't recognize. His eyes were closed, but they opened immediately when the knob turned. She couldn't help but feel small pangs of satisfaction from the fervent smile he gave her, the news already slipping away from her, replaced with the want to go to bed with him again.

The pull towards him wasn't dependency; it was something she wasn't quite sure of. Equality? Appreciation? Eddie seemed to want her as much as she wanted him, maybe more. Columbia rarely experienced that with egotistical rock stars, and with every second she spent with the greaser, the self-denial about Frank not loving her as much as she loved him began to melt away. Whatever it was, the pull was strong, but not overwhelming, and in the blink of an eye, she was on the uncomfortable mattress, crawling towards him.

Undoing his shackles, Eddie's hands went to her face, bringing her closer. The kiss was sweet, almost uncharacteristic from a large man with tattoos and rings. She giggled as he ran his fingers through her hair, the feeling going away when he quizzically asked her how she got cobwebs in her hair. 'Tell him,' the angel on her shoulder pestered, and she opened her mouth slightly. 'Fuck him! You can always tell him later,' the devil suggested, and although she knew it was wrong, giving herself over to absolute pleasure won over. "Oh, I dunno how they got there. I must've brushed up against the wall." It wasn't a lie, she'd gotten them from hiding in the shadows…it just wasn't the whole truth. Brushing the spider webs out, Eddie threw them to the ground and they began again.

"So," the greaser said after they were done, and lying, curled together, "I thought you were into that Frank guy."

"I-" she stopped short, eyes nearly bulging out of her head. Closing them, so he could not see her shock, she kissed him softly to give herself time to think. 'How can I tell him the truth…What is the truth?' she thought, her mind going fast, even for her standards. 'I still love Frankie, how could I not? He's passionate, and sweet, and-'

"Seriously, what about Frank?"

"Well, what about Franki- Frank?" Columbia caught herself just in time, tracing her tiny index finger down his body. Eddie arched him back, but wouldn't forget about his question. She reached down, past the sheets, sensing that he was already hard. He groaned, half with pleasure and half with annoyance, and pushed her hand off.

"So, what? You're fucking me and him?"

"So are you!"

"It's not exactly to my liking! Besides, I get my brain sliced out after a while by that nut job." A frosty silence had them both looking down, away from each other. Columbia was feeling seeds of guilt being planted from her urges to yell at Eddie for calling Frank a 'nut job.' Her body tensed, and she drew a shaky breath. It was an uncomfortable feeling, not throwing herself in front of the Transvestite's honor. Eddie seemed to notice, so when he opened his mouth again, he sounded spiteful.

"From what I've gathered, you've got it pretty bad for this guy. So what am I to you? Are you his or mine?"

"Oh no, I'm yours."

"Really?"

"Yes, I really am yours." It was an impulse, to spare his feelings, to keep him happy. _'I'm half yours' _she reasoned, and kissed him in an attempt to forget the guilt. The lies were piling up fast, and she was good at fibbing her way out of trouble. He believed her, and the sheets got tangled, Columbia's conscience eating at her insides the whole time.

X.x.x.x.X

"Ya know, I really don't get why you like this doctor guy."

"Oh?" There was a trace of malice in the word, which Eddie either ignored or didn't catch it. He wrapped his thick arms around her, stroking her tangled hair.

"Yeah, well, I dunno. You were fucking him by will; I get to be his 'experiment.' Maybe when you actually _want _to sleep with him, it's buckets of fun. I'm a test run. Say, anything about when this psycho's gonna slice me open?"

If he didn't call Frank crazy, she could've held her temper, could've told him what she heard. But, she had lived in the castle for too long, her addiction to the transvestite could not be stifled. Defending him was more important than Eddie's life.

"Okay, listen here! Frankie's a wonderful person, and I love him! Why he's going about it with you is completely lost to me, because you have to be the one person on any planet that doesn't want him to stick it in!" Her face was livid and red as she stood up, grabbing her clothes. She didn't see the hurt and confusion on Eddie's face, just saw a guy who didn't realize how lucky he was.

"You have no idea how fortunate you are! You get to sleep with Frankie, he wants you! He…he doesn't want me…not really." She said the last sentence in a quiet, meek mouse of a voice. Tears rolled down her face, and she couldn't look at the biker anymore.

"Than why did you…why did you tell me you really were mine?"

"Because…I didn't want you to know that I love him, and that he's almost ready to rip your brains out."

Columbia didn't look at him, just left, getting dressed in the hallway. She had reached a road she didn't want to travel down, but knew she had no other option. She pulled the bustier, not feeling pretty, not feeling sexy. She pulled her jeans up, not feeling seductive, and wanted. Frankie didn't love her. She was just…she was just sex, who couldn't leave because "she knew too much." He told her this the first time she had seen Eddie, but this was the first time she could accept it, acknowledge it. Columbia knew the proper thing would be to leave, try and escape the castle and the lifestyle she had become dependant on. But she also knew she couldn't leave without Eddie, because she owed him that much. Her hand was on the knob, and she could hear his breathing, uneasy, he was probably shooting up to forget. _'I really blew it, I think,' _she whined in her mind, while a tiny shred of sanity was telling her all would be forgiven if she could get them out of there.

X.x.x.x.X

I took so long, I'm sorry! Forgive me, I was having writer's block like you would not believe, plus I have a livejournal, which is pretty fun. Next chapter with hopefully be up quicker than this one, the tenth chapter! Here's a hint of what is soon to come: How did Dr.Scott get the letter?


	10. The Plan's Come a Long Way

Sunlight peaked through the thick velvet curtains, showing the billions of dust particles floating through the air nonchalantly. Unfortunately, light wasn't what Columbia wanted to be awakened by, her hung over mind wanting darkness and aspirin. The bottle was still held limply in her left hand, but dropped when her eyes opened and her palms shielded the light from her eyes. Sure, she had tried to think of a plan. She really did. And she got halfway through before her guilt got the best of her, and she drank to forget about what she said to Eddie.

The plan was half formed; her headache was pounding away, a hundred percent. The bathroom cabinet wasn't much help, opening it resulted in boxes of condoms spilling into the sink, assorted lubrications, and a few bottles of pills. Most of the prescriptions were outdated, except a possible few that didn't have labels. Popping what seemed to be a pain killer (expired only a few days before) she swallowed sink water, regretting it immediately. The water seemed dirty, but Columbia wasn't entirely surprised: As far as she could tell, anyone passing by the house thought it to be abandoned. How anything worked still marveled her.

The clothes felt dirty, felt like she was wearing trouble and pain. Throwing them off in the bathroom, she grabbed a ratty towel. Somehow, even with the blood stains and the holes, it felt better than the sequined bustier. Trying her door, it was locked. _'Cause all the surprises were used up yesterday,' _she laughed bitterly, walking down the hall slowly, turning knobs. Most were locked-or jammed-but she was lucky enough to find the closet that Frank referred to as the "Costume Room." It nearly took her breath away, all the frivolity, and shimmer and glamour; it was almost enough to make her forget about her head.

The were boas, and masks, and everything even Frankie considered "not for everyday wear." She found a pair of sparkly tap shoes that made her think about days when she was a good girl, when everything made sense. She'd come back for them, but her head reminded her that she still wasn't in the mood to hear a click every time she took a step.

But fuchsia ballet flats, with ribbons lacing up over some fishnets? She was in the mood to be silly, look a little childish so when she faced Eddie, maybe-just maybe-he'd be more willing to forgive. She pulled on a maroon mini dress that fanned out tutu-like at the bottom. It occurred to her that she ought to shower, but while walking through what seemed to be a frivolous dream, she thought about a lot of things. Eddie liked music. Eddie liked rock and roll. Eddie liked Columbia, but she didn't know if he still did. She thought of ways to connect the two, into a peace offering he couldn't resist. As she applied mascara at the make up table, she thought about what she would say, but didn't get very far. Lipstick in a fiery red, to give some "sophistication" to her look made her wonder if it would be rubbed off, if they would kiss again. Blush, that made her aware of how pale, and shaky she was as she brushed it into her cheeks. She thought she looked alright as she walked out the doors, promising herself she'd come back for them when she found a place to put them. If she found a place to put them.

Columbia made sure to meld into the shadows, realizing with dismay that everyone else in the household probably hated her. Or at the very least, won't be opposed to making her feel even worse. Calling out the wrong name while sleeping Magenta-well, that was reason enough. And of course, her creepy balding brother would take her side. Running into them, they would probably ignore her or shoot her looks. Columbia wasn't very sure which she preferred. Running into Frankie-the groupie didn't even want to think of what could happen. _'Sure, he hurt me a coupla' times. But I love him…loved him'_ There was an even chance she'd run away or sleep with him.

And Eddie. Walking down the stairs, she begged herself not to sweat. Everyone else she was running away from, but she found herself wanting Eddie to like her, wanted his approval rather than the others. Seeing something in on a table she did not notice before, she grabbed it and headed to his room.

She stood outside for a very long time, swearing she could hear her heart beat. Her hand was on the doorknob, but she couldn't turn it, she was too nervous. Biting her lower lip, and tapping her foot to no beat, she seemed immobilized.

"Ya know, we could both get this over with if ya would just open the damn door."

She let out a squeak of surprise, and did what he told her to do. She almost dropped the "peace offering" her hands were defiantly slick enough, but she gripped it behind her back as she went in.

"How'd you know-"

"Well, when nothin' changes in this room, hot pink shoes underneath the door catch your attention real quick."

He said that without looking at her. He was shackled, must've lost the key, but she could see his fingers fidgeting, occasionally balling into a fist. Not sure what to do, she plopped down onto the mattress, wiggling until it was some sort of comfortable.

"Closer your eyes."

"Why? Is he comin' with a knife? Preppin' me for sugery?"

Columbia clucked her tongue, and repeated her request, adding a "Pretty-please-with-sugar-on-top" to the end of it this time. She thought she heard a bittersweet snort of amusement, but Eddie closed his eyes.

"Tada!"

She held out to him a portable radio, giving him a shy smile. At first he didn't say anything, his eyes just popped for a second. The hands stopped moving, and a look-not a smile, but a look-showed sincere appreciation. But Columbia knew too well that her little performance the night before wouldn't be so easily forgotten. The greaser asking her if it was for him to listen to while he got his 'brains ripped out' stung, but a tiny hint of playfulness came from the comment as well.

"Well, no…it's for you to listen to when there's nothing better to do."

"Until I get my 'brains ripped out.'"

"Not if I can help it!"

He actually laughed at that, and told her to go back to her science fiction double features with that kind of talk. Again, she wasn't sure if it wasn't meant to hurt or not. She wasn't sure if it did. Crawling up to him, the bumps making her hands and knees wobble; she put on her best angel face. Eddie looked at her, deadpan, and she gave a sigh and batted her eyelashes comically.

"No, seriously. I have a plan."

"And this would be…?"

"Well, what if we wrote a letter to someone?"

Now he sighed, looked at her and shook his head. It wasn't from disbelief, or pity, it was from the reality and the predicament they were both in.

"Than how would we mail it?"

"Well, one of us would have to get out."

"Impossible."

He said it with such misery, Columbia felt like she was breaking inside. But the plan was still in her head, still forming, somehow making sense to herself. The night the servants went to dig up the graveyard, the alarms would be disconnected. She'd slip out-she would, because one of them would need to distract Frank while the other was gone. It crushed her slightly, thinking about how Frank would notice Eddie's disappearance before hers, but she set the matter aside. She'd stick the letter in the nearest post office, and head back. It didn't scare her that she knew she wouldn't stay out forever. Not without coming back for Eddie. They were in this together, and she felt-even though she hadn't known him long-that she almost loved him.

She told him the plan, leaving out her feelings. There was a long silence, where both there bodies were tense. His fingers still didn't move, she suspected they were asleep by now. Finally, the biker took a deep breath.

"What do we do after that?"

"We wait."

"And what do we do until then?"

"We wait."

"…Okay."

She heard him sigh, knew that he couldn't think up a better plan. Finding the key under the mattress, she unlocked the cuffs, and they held hands. Not as friends, not as lovers, but as two people who were bound by their need to escape madness.

X.x.x.x.X

Hope you enjoyed! It's been sooo long, I know. Busy. California, job, good excuses. Next chapter will be worked on tomorrow. The end is nearing my loves! But fear not, it shall be a fun bumpy ride. I promise.


	11. Relieving Tension

Who has the lamest excuses in the land? I do! New school (high school actually…I'm just a wee freshmen) new friends, this kickass laptop that can do anything but pour me a drink of seltzer (this thing has a camera!) and of course, a boy. I've actually written a couple versions of this chapter, but haven't been happy with them.

X.x.x.x.X

Columbia quickly learned that it was best, when waiting, to keep busy. And although plotting was necessary, she found that there were certain _distractions _to keep her mind at ease, and keep from thinking about all the ways the plan could possibly go wrong.

The distraction was of course, Eddie.

He was sleeping when she crept in on night, with an insatiable feeling running through her. She hadn't spoken to Frankie in days, was getting very good at avoiding the others, and the greaser helped her not think about their loathing for her. Some days she was irritable, as if going through transvestite-love-withdrawal, but the feeling she used to get when thinking about him was undeniably fading. She was beginning to feel like she was just sex for the scientist-they never really did have conversations; in a way their time together was very mechanical. Clothing came off, and they screwed, the changes were in his hands. After he made her feel sparkly and wanted, he'd light a cigarette, and she'd attempt to smoke alongside him, suppressing coughs. Than he'd run off with some scientific chore to do, and although she was thrilled and chilled by him, her Frank failed to fulfill treating her like anything other than just a sex toy. _'But I'm his groupie…'_ she'd try to justify, but thinking about how with all the others, the rock stars, the rebels, it was just a jump into bed. With Frankie, she wanted more; she wanted him to love her back. Frankie was her favorite obsession, but now she wanted someone more. He was the only one she ever loved, but it was unrequited, and for the first time in her life, it occurred to her that she wanted to be in love with someone, and have them love her back.

And Eddie was beginning to be her light in the darkness.

She'd creep into his room after midnight, or whenever the Transylvanians where occupied, often finding him asleep. That was another distraction, but from the restless grunts and movements, she could tell that they weren't painless dreams. Sometimes she'd shake him awake, an insatiable feeling sneaking through her, bottling up until he was awake, their clothes were off, and he was holding her.

And they talked, debated, sometimes argued about anything from the real world. _Reality._ It was starting to be a foreign concept that seemed like a dream. Sometimes Columbia wondered if she was twenty-three or thirteen, nineteen or ninety-nine. Eddie was showing similar signs, sometimes jumping at nothing, but they tried their hardest not to voice their fears. Anything before the castle was to be avoided under most circumstances.

"You should wash your makeup off at night."

She giggled at the random comment. "Who taught you about makeup Ed?"

"My mother. Before she died."

Occasionally, the plan stumbled into the talking, and they'd try to make decisions, but the hopelessness seemed overwhelming, and why bother, when heavy petting was easier, and better? Procrastination was becoming a fine tuned skill for both of them.

The groupie learned a lot abut the greaser during the nights in his room. He was twenty-four (he thought, time meant nothing, never would again in the castle) but had been arrested eight times, for various muggings, theft, violence, and of course, drugs. He never met his father, and his mother's own addictions rubbed off on him. By the time Edna Scott died, he was ready to get himself and his drugs out of the Texas, maybe become a famous rock n roller. He had some friends in Ohio who were starting a band, and he blindly drove himself to Denton, the home of happiness. Unfortunately, his bike broke down a few miles from his destination, and so he crashed at his uncle's house, Uncle Everett. It was established that they would go get help from him; although they could only send a letter. Dr.Scott lived too far from the castle to go plead for his help, but Columbia some how remembered a mailbox that could help. There was only one problem: Getting out of the castle, and getting back. Without the Transylvanians noticing a thing.

"Magenta and her brother are going to…harvest body parts soon. They won't be guarding the doors. I could, you know, sneak out after they go, and pop over to the mailbox. And be back. They'd never know I was gone…"

The last sentence held a bit of bitterness, and melancholy. Columbia still found it biting that she was only still in the castle because she knew too much; and because she was good for reliving Frank's "tension." _'Just get this right…'_ she reminded herself, and decided promptly that she had spent too much time thinking about the predicament, and not enough time being distracted.

The groupie unbuttoned the biker's pants, undoing the belt in a manner that seemed a common practiced chore. And it was; only most chores she didn't enjoy. The waiting game was much easier with someone else to divert her attention, and Eddie was getting very good at taking her mind far away.

X.x.x.x.X

"Eeee!"

Sometimes Columbia found her squeak obnoxious. Lucky for her, it seemed to fuel Eddie, whose own grunts seemed to do the same for her. It was good, so good, and also alien. He wanted her. Not her body, not for his own pleasure, Eddie Scott wanted her, and she was beginning to think she very nearly loved him. He made her laugh, and actually held her when she cried, and it was new, and it was different, and it was already preferred to all the other people Columbia had ever been with.

X.x.x.x.X

"So darlin'," The greaser said, using a pet name for her, and nobody else, "Just how will we know when the servants go to the grave yard?"

She reveled in the nickname he used for her-it seemed so sincere-before taking a pause to think about how they would figure it out. She knew she could eavesdrop, but there was another way. A frizzy, red headed, domestic sort of way.

"I have a feeling I could pull a few strings, patch up a few...mishaps, and we might even find out why Magenta and her crazy brother do that elbow-fuck thing."

He snorted at that, and she kissed him quickly, before telling him she needed to pull those strings.

X.x.x.x.X

On the way up the stairs, hating the creaks and cobwebs, she heard the stomp of heals that could only belong to one person. Columbia's heart raced, but she wasn't sure it was from excitement and lust. She considered running, but it was too late. In front of her, at the top of the stairs, was Frank-N-Furter. His eyes widened with equal surprise.

"Columbia," he began, his accent still capable of making her body feel tingly, "where have you been hiding lately?"

She swallowed, ignoring the question. She had to tell him something, and she was mad at herself for not saying it before.

"Franki-…Frank...I love you."

He smiled in a way that plainly said, "Of course, of course."

"Well…how nice."

And just like that, when he replied, she knew how she felt about him.

X.x.x.x.X

I have three days to do…nothing. So you know, if another chapter gets half written, consider it an accomplishment. Cause as I type this, I realize I have to take three rolls of film, finish an essay, and other things. But there may be a Magenta-Columbia reunion in the next chapter. And several other nice things.


	12. Life Itself

I don't own I Love Lucy, but I love Lucille Ball with all my heart. And yay, Columbia learns the Time Warp!

X.x.x.x.X

"Vhat?"

The domestic greeted her like she was a bug she wished to squash; the groupie had to force herself to make eye contact.

"Hey…"

"Vhat do you vant?"

Magenta wouldn't even open the door completely; Columbia could just see a sliver of pale skin and negligee, and feel the heat from their skin. Time was still moving, at an unusually awkward pace, and she could read the Transylvanian, slightly. The eyes were kohl-rimmed, and the lashes didn't want to end, but despite the dark makeup, there was a softness, a loneliness. It was just a matter of Columbia swallowing her pride, and apologizing for the fight.

"Genta…Magenta, I'm sorry. I'm so stup-"

"Vhy didn't you tell me you vere fucking ze fat one?"

Columbia's could feel her jaw drop, and was too shocked to even defend Eddie's body. Magenta wasn't stupid, but how could she possibly know about her situation with the specimen? Even more, the earthling could hear more than a hint of hurt and jealousy coming from the maid. Her mouth gaped lamely, and she blinked profusely, unable to comprehend.

"Yeah," she managed finally, the eye contact locked in a manner of uncertainty. "Yeah, and calling out his name during…" she decided it was best to cut the last part out, Magenta's eyes sharpened. "I wasn't than-it just. I dunno. That was stupid. So stupid!"

"Very much so."

Columbia let her make the remark, let it roll off painlessly. "But me and Eddie…it's not stupid. And me and you isn't stupid either! It's…"

"So dreamy?"

"Yeah! It's like Lucy and Ethel-"

"Who?"

Columbia explained briefly who they were, and how they were like that, only more sexual with each other. And others.

"And we will be, as long as we're here, but at the end of the day, I think I want to be with Eddie."

"Not ze Master?"

There was surprise in the maid's voice. Surprise, but also relief, as though glad the groupie finally realized that Frank wasn't right for her. Columbia didn't respond immediately, biting her lip. "No…I want a man who's not prettier than me!"

X.x.x.x.X

"Okey-dokey, next foot."

The frizzy haired domestic pulled a sheer black stocking off her right foot, and set it in front of the raspberry haired groupie, so the toenails could be painted. Purple, because they had just found the bottle while searching for their clothes. It was fair to say that things were patched up between the two, but Columbia was being cautious about what to say, and was abundant with the gestures of kindness. Leaning over slightly to pinch the earthling's nipple-just for the thrill-Magenta came as close to a giggle as the groupie had ever seen, before returning to the cigarette and pinup magazines.

"Hey Genta?"

"Mmhmm?"

"When are you and Riff gonna go dig up bodies?"

"Vhen he's finished vorking on ze little details," Magenta replied as though asked when she was going to make dinner.

"And when would that be?"

"Vhen my brother finishes telling ze Master vhat to do."

"…Your brother really is the brains of the operation, isn't he?"

The domestic nodded, a gleam of apparent pride in her eyes. Columbia saw the faraway look, and the pensive smile on her friend's face, making her mind cloud, and stomach flip.

"He's the only one in this castle I haven't slept with. Y'know, 'cept for that one time I was pretty drunk, and thought-"

"I remember it vell, than you very much."

Columbia giggled, but stopped as soon as the maid looked irritated, and envious. The chatter drifted to slight Frank bashing; Magenta being a secret expert, and Columbia trying timidly to voice the little things she never before allow to bother her.

"He can't speak French too well. It's…amazing when he does, but I took four years of French, and that's not how you say 'Will you go to bed with me, tonight?'"

She felt guilty, but also released, although she still cringed whenever her friend would shoot scathing remarks at her once-sweet transvestite. However, they found other things to amuse themselves with, Columbia telling a fascinated Magenta about the phenomenon "I Love Lucy," and other television shows.

X.x.x.x.X

"Okay, and than what?"

"You bring your knees in tight!"

The Time Warp was one of the more amusing dances Columbia had come across. She was used to just finding a rhythm, and shimmying, but a dance with steps (especially with the steps the Time Warp specified) was new, and addicting, especially in pajamas, and with her best friend.

"Let's do the Time Warp again! Let's do the Time Warp again!"

Following Magenta's lead, they fell to the floor, falling onto makeup, clothes and magazines. Columbia's mouse ears fell off, and she landed partially on the domestic; resulting in a playful roll, with shrieks of laughing, and squeaks of "But it's the pelvic thrust!"

The door opened, and there stood Riff Raff, his hair stringier and more unkempt than usual.

"Magenta…"

They stopped bashfully, and stood up, straightening, and suppressing giggles. The handyman seemed to tired, and distracted to care, or was perhaps stifling his envy.

"Vhat is it my dearest brother?"

Columbia's stomach did the flip-flop again when she saw how they looked at each other. Hunger, so much hunger. They were feeding off of each other's presence.

"I've done it. I've discovered the secret…to life."

"Itself?" Columbia heard herself comment in a whisper. Magenta seemed too taken by her brother's achievement to do more than elbow her in the ribs lightly.

"Itself!" The handyman said, his hollow cheeks flushed with color. The domestic let out a strangled gasp of pleasure, and rushed forward, their hands meeting, their forearms, than their elbows.

"So…um…when'll you be getting the…anatomy?"

For the first time, the handyman looked at her, an unnatural smile playing at his lips.

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow, we continue the mission…at midnight."

Columbia's pulse raced, and she mumbled a "Excuse me," before leaving the room. The nerves, the adrenaline, it was all coming much too fast, and she felt feint. Looking up, she found herself at a door. Eddie was being tested, Magenta was doing the unimaginable with her brother, and she was wound up like an E or first string.

X.x.x.x.X

"Yeeow!"

This was her kind of dance. A tap dance. Her feet sprinted across the floor, the thick and satisfying click, over and over again, shuffling and rolling…she was a swimmer, she was a tapper, she was a groupie, she was a mess, and needed to relax. The ballroom was never used, and so she tapped there, alone, but not friendless for once. The shoes were better than Dorothy's, in her opinion. Dozens of little rhinestones, and glitter, they hit the light every time and she felt like a star. She was always the groupie to the star, but alone, dancing in those shoes, she felt like she was the one everyone wanted.

"_And hey,"_ she figuring, jabbing her toe out swiftly, _"half of the household wouldn't mind taking me for a ride!"_

Down the hall, she heard Eddie being returned to his room. She knew she had to go visit him, and talk about the next day, and what it was all leading up to. They could feel good because he had his heroin, and she had her nerves and adrenaline, but sometimes all the good in the world didn't block out the bad. But in thirteen hours, it didn't really matter, because happy or sad, she was their only hope.

X.x.x.x.X

I typed this up in like an hour. How sweet is that?


	13. Here's To Prove He's No Joker

Three chapters written in one day? You lucky dogs. Enjoy, this story is drawing to a close…and we all know the ending, sorta. Enjoy anyways. Also, I don't own any of these bands.

X.x.x.x.X

The feeling dulled considerably as the night went on. After writing out a letter of plea-in blood no less, from one of Eddie's laboratory wound-Columbia and Eddie lay together, not moving, not speaking, not sleeping. Much to their dismay, the heroin was gone, used up a night before. The greaser's body was beginning to sweat and shake, and although they didn't say anything, she knew he felt like dying.

They listened to the radio, songs playing that they loved, but she gave up singing along after a few minutes. Soft moans escaped the biker's lips, and she felt a pain, she felt helpless. It occurred to her that Eddie could actually die from the withdrawal, and the only person who would be around the next night was Frank; who although had "Doctor" in front of his name, seemed to have limited skills in the medical field.

Even when he was asleep, she couldn't leave, couldn't get the servants for help. She felt attached, and couldn't bring herself to unclasp their hands even for a minute. It was sweaty, and the greaser was shaking in an unnatural fashion, not responding to her "Shhs" and whispers of support.

"Hey, listen to me," she whispered when his eyes focused in on her face. "Stay sane inside insanity."

He laughed a little bit at the odd wording, body convulsing wickedly. Than he slept, the sheen of sweat over him, glinting in the dim lighting. He looked…he looked amazing in her mind, beautiful in a different way than Frankie was. Grotesque and sick and dying, and she thought he was beautiful because she loved him. Almost. _'Things are always beautiful if you love them. Things are always more when you feel that way. And when you find someone more…"_ Columbia didn't know how to finish that thought. All she knew was that Eddie had tried to keep her safe from her trouble and pain; and now she had to do the same thing.

The radio DJ announced that it was almost daybreak, and he awoke. Sleep wasn't going to come easy when he had a fever, and anxiety attacks every few minutes. She knew it would be a few more days before it was over, and he may not have experienced the worst yet, but there was a hopeful smile on her behalf when he looked up at her.

"Well?"

"Well," he grimaced, trying not to move any limbs, "I've gotten into a lot of fights…but this one kicks all their asses."

She laughed sympathetically, kissing him lightly, tasting the sick on his lips. He barely responded, but the look in his eyes made her feel giddy. She poured him a glass of water from the near-empty, cracked pitcher, wondering if this was what a relationship feels like. She never really did have a proper one. One night strands with rock stars, and the odd guy while going cross-country hardly counted; there seemed to be a lot of firsts with Eddie. A lot of good firsts, more mature firsts than the ones teenagers experienced. A Janis Joplin song played in the background when he next awoke, taking his hand away from hers.

"C'lumbia…you're…so sad."

Her face showed her confusion, hurt and disbelief on every inch of it.

"You're a sad little girl in this castle…"

She blinked, not knowing how to respond,

"…But I know you're more than that. With me, you are."

She nodded, mouth opening slightly, than closing, unsure of what to say.

"When you get back…and Uncle Everett comes…"

She had no idea where his wandering speech was going.

"We're gonna get out of here babe."

She nodded, a bewildered smile on her face, not sure if he was delirious or sincere.

"And we're gonna get married."

Columbia's heart seemed to stop. She didn't feel apathy, she didn't know what she felt. Every good emotion seemed to be surging through her, and she felt tingly, and scared, and wonderful, and shocked. There was no idea he knew what he was saying. It was unfair, and he wasn't being mean, but he was sick, and had no idea what was coming out of his mouth. She briefly imagined herself in a big white wedding dress, hair maybe a color not found on a clown's head, and Eddie all cleaned up, in a tux. It was laughable, it was out of character, and Columbia kind of loved it. She kind of wanted it. Choking on her words, she managed to sputter out a sentence.

"Ed, I-I think that fever's getting' to you."

He laughed; it seemed almost clear and healthy. The hand he had taken away from her, like the other one, was covered with rings. He took one off his pinky, a plain silver one with blue. He weakly took her left hand, and slipped it on, making a strangely perfect fit. It was the perfect rock n roll engagement ring. She had no idea what to say, feeling his body shake and shudder, seeing him drift off to a fitful sleep again.

"Oh you dope…" She played with his hair affectionately, watching the ring dimly catch lighting, feeling girlish and giggly. She kissed him again, his breathing uneven, eyes fluttering. She leaned back, listening to the Beatles in the background, thinking of what an unconventional marriage it would be. Riding out of the chapel on his motorbike, going to a rock concert to celebrate their first anniversary. It was the only thing giving her hope, her love for the greaser.

Every time he woke up, she asked him if he remembered what had happened. He always did, giving her pert remarks, and making her heart feel funny and wonderful. His fever wasn't leaving, and often, he'd have fits of unusually strong shivering, but mentally, he seemed hopeful and in love, and healthy. Physically, that was another matter, and Columbia feared leaving him alone for the night.

The radio DJ announced that is was eleven thirty, and Led Zeppelin played, She'd seen them before, a few times, and imagined getting out of the castle and seeing them with her…fiancé. It was destroying them, and as she heard Riff Raff and Magenta wander down the hallway, she kissed the sleeping Eddie.

"You're my light in the darkness Edward Scott…"

She whispered to him, and got up, running her fingers around the ring. Searching under the mattress, she found the letter Eddie had written up, and tucked it into the pocket of her shorts. She realized it would be strange; a letter in blood, but the castle seemed to have everything but writing utensils. _'Adding to the urgency, perhaps?'_ She quipped, slipping out the room, with one last look at the greaser. She blew him a kiss, and closed the door, seeing the servants at the front entrance. She hadn't told them about her plan, couldn't risk Frank finding out somehow. They were talking quietly, and gathering all that was needed, and would be put in the pick up truck. Still dressed in their uniforms, Columbia caught a glimpse of something silver, and pronged. Tilting her head, perplexed, she hid in the shadows of the stairs, hearing drifts of conversation.

"We shall put the tools in the vehicle, and come back to the foyer for the bags. Alright, my…beloved sister?"

The domestic nodded, and picking up the shovels, they left the burlap bags at the door, and slipped out into the night.

Seeing this as her one chance, Columbia followed their lead.

X.x.x.x.X

Ever wondered why Columbia wore a ring on her left ring finger? So did I. So this happened. Hope these three chapters make up for long awaited updates. And written while listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack? Today was divine.


	14. The Triffid

Mwaha, would you darlings like to kiss my feet? Cause I'd quite like it if you do.

X.x.x.x.X

She didn't notice the cold, and the fact that she was wearing a black corset. She didn't notice the wind howling a thin, silver tune, and the way stray leaves danced at the breezes command. _She was outside. She was away from it all…she was away from Eddie. _There was so much to take in, she felt dizzy and scared, and the adrenaline was back, but it seemed to have frozen.

'_Move.'_

She figured that out right before the servants' shadows appeared next to hers. Lanky bushes provided a lackluster protection, but it was good enough. She watched, half dazed, as the Transylvanians drifted towards the front door, more shadow than body themselves. Columbia realized this was her chance, and she took off towards the heavy iron gates, leaving for the first time. Her body was starting to feel normal, starting to chill from the cold, and the wind. Hugging her body uselessly, she silently cursed the castle's wardrobe for mainly consisting of lingerie.

Past the gates, she ducked into the abundance of shadows when the rusty pickup truck rolled by, making its own anarchist path down the dirt road. _'Guess they use hover crafts on that planet of theirs,' _she quipped, dust still settling from the scattered trails the vehicle left. It was going to take hours to get into Denton, but she had confidence (sort of) that she knew the way. Still, the cold bit at her, and her eyes were tearing from the persistent gusts.

The velvet darkness seemed permanent, so she stumbled through it blindly, hoping to come across someone to hitch hike with, but as fate would have it, she was alone on the blackest night.

There was a light. She could see it faintly, hear bits of music carried by the wind, and she knew she was in Downtown Denton. _Smash. _She stepped on a can of beer, the last bits tricking onto the cracked cement. Yes, she was definitely in Downtown Denton, the place she practically lived in once Uptown couldn't suit her needs and lifestyle. Weeds, homelessness, underage…underage _everything_, anything that was ignored, and parallel to Uptown. It was disheveled, and crime ridden, and the skeleton in Denton's closet. It was where Columbia went to parties, and met boys, and did things she shouldn't have. It used to be liberation, freedom, fun. Now all the groupie wanted was to find a mailbox and get out. Get back to Eddie, so they could wait for help, and get on with their lives. Their rock n roll lives, the castle behind them, a new beginning. It sounded ridiculous and farfetched, she kept telling herself _'Now the only thing that gives me hope…is my love for a certain dope,' _using the word affectionately.

'_Where the hell is a mailbox?'_

She looked down the dark street, seeing a stray cat or two creep through, and hearing throbbing music coming from down the street. Looking at the street post, she was surprised she didn't recognize the street before. Campbell Street. Which meant the music was coming from the Triffid. Neon lights and smoke seeped through the thick doors, and giving up on finding the mailbox on her own, walked briskly towards the club.

Just a wink and a flash of a smile let her in, no questions asked. She couldn't help but stare at him, being the first person she saw outside the castle. Columbia was immediately thrown into the world she once practically ruled, the blaring music, the sin, the Earth. It was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. True to its name, the Triffd was full of plants, green and withstanding the smoke and lack of light. Fake, plastic vines draped menacingly, looking ready to spit poison and kill.

It occurred to her she had no idea what day it was, and the month was questionable as well. Sliding onto a barstool, the vinyl seat cracked and dull, she ordered a "Janette," the only thing she could remember. There were people. Everywhere. Earth people, and it was shocking. She felt like a product of another time, out of place in a reality that now seemed fiction. A few people she thought she realized, but realizing how she looked-hair a completely different color and length, drawn on eyebrows, and eye makeup that was different, and more Ziggy Stardust than the old Columbia. She downed the drink, noting that it wasn't nearly as strong as the liquor in the castle; she polished it off before she remembered she had no money. To get out of the jam, she used to trade...favors for drinks, but now the ring on her finger made her feel monogamist.

"I-I don't, I can, um-"

"Put in on my tab Charlie."

A blonde haired man with a not-quite-real smile stared at her, before calling out, "Hey, honey, you guys, can I get you guys anything else?"

"Two weeks until I tie the knot, and so I'm buying the whole bar a round," he explained, seeing her mystified expression. She was grateful for the drink being covered, along with the man not trying to pick her up. She muttered a thank you, and he laughed.

"No problem. Say, have I seen you around before?"

"Uh, I'm back in town for the night."

"Why don't you join us?"

Better judgment told her to decline the offer, but the awe of talking to people-sane people! -Overwhelmed her. She nodded, eyes wide, and walked over a circular table where a good fifteen people crammed around and laughed. Except for the man, and one woman, everyone was dressed normally for the most part, with some accessories that made the groupie suspicious. Some wore decadent sunglasses; others had brightly colored, shiny accents. Their makeup was striking to say the least, certainly offbeat in Denton. Columbia realized how well she fit in with them. Except for one small detail. All of the strangers-save the engaged couple-had a little lightning bolt pin somewhere on their shirts. It was black, and caught the light more than anything else they had on. There was only one woman who looked out of place. Smartly in a cocktail dress that accented the deviant look in her eyes- she had to be his fiancé, Columbia decided. She squeezed in between a large woman, and an unusually short one. Even though they had tinted glasses on, she could feel them looking her over. The fat woman pursed her lips together in an excited manner, and bit into the slice of orange that adorned her drink. The man ordered more drinks before looking at the groupie again.

"So, what did you say your name was?"

"I-I didn't. I'm Columbia."

"With such an interesting name, and…style, I think I'd remember you. You can't be from around here," the woman in the cocktail dress murmured cattily.

Before Columbia could stammer an excuse, the man cut in.

"What I think she meant to say was, I'm Ralph Hapschatt," the man said cheerfully, shooting eyes at his fiancé. "And this lucky little lady," he gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. "Is Betty Monroe, A.K.A Soon-to-be-Mrs .Ralph Hapschatt."

He talked in a tacky manner, Columbia decided. She smiled at Betty, and took a long drink of her Janette. The others hadn't said anything to her yet, talked in whispers, giggling in a way that reminded her of the Munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. _'And I have to be the most unorthodox Dorothy ever,' _she mused, eyes catching on the lightning pins. They were familiar, and she wondered if they were a symbol for something famous that she had forgotten…

X.x.x.x.X

"So…so how about it? You come down to the wedding. We'd love to have you! Right honey?"

"…Sure!"

Columbia's vision was hazy, and distorted, but she could still here the reluctance in Betty's voice. It sent her into a spiral of giggles that she tried to contain, unnoticed by all the other intoxicated couple. The guests still hadn't said much, but they were like a memory she couldn't place.

"Yeah, just family and two of our friends. Lovely little couple," Ralph's voiced caused her to tune in again, propping her head up on a hand. "Problem is, our priest just backed out. Something about not coming out of the house…kind of glad we're not tying the knot with him. He was going on and on about a U.F.O sighting!" He chuckled, and Betty laughed in a manner that a drunken Columbia considered obnoxious. The others however, tittered nervously, and once again, despite the glasses, she could tell where their eyes were.

A pale woman, with her eyebrows painted on cleared her throat, and took a deep breath.

"We have a friend," she began, her accent thick, and Columbia's head started to spin. It was another thing that was too familiar. "And he is quite good at…ordaining, yes?" She asked the other strangers, and they nodded. The woman with the painted eyebrows and black hair continued, but the groupie could feel eyes on her, as she connected the dots. "He is called Frank…Furter-" a collective swoon seemed to run through the guests, and Columbia couldn't help but gasp. _'They're aliens! Like Frankie and Riff and Genta! What are they doing here?' _Her eyes were wide, and even though the black haired Transylvanian was talking to Ralph and Betty, their eyes locked.

"We are visiting him in two weeks. At night…and he'd be most interested in having you two…beings to…meet."

Columbia knew Frank well enough to know what this meant. Humans were still foreign to him. By "meet" he meant sleep with, and it made her stomach churn. She wanted to say something, but she was too drunk and too overwhelmed to say anything.

"Well, we'd love to have this Frank marry us. Wouldn't we honey?" Betty nodded, eyes showing clear displeasure. "But you know, here in America at least, the night of our wedding is pretty special!" he winked at his fiancé, who rolled her eyes as soon as he looked away. "But say, where are you fellows from?"

A tall man with long hair answered after an awkward silence. "Transylvania…in…Europe?" He asked, hoping to get the locations right.

"Well, welcome to Denton USA! We'll be busy that night, but maybe Brad and Janet could swing by your little party."

"Oh Ralph, Brad and Janet might be busy," Betty interjected half-heartedly, knowing her efforts would be fruitless.

"Maybe," Ralph said, not really listening to her. "But let me tell you, those two could use some livening up!" He winked at the others, and Columbia felt an edge of disgust come over her. "They're straight as an arrow; probably only ever kissed before!"

"Ralph!"

The aliens however, seemed most interested. "I'm quite sure Frank would…love to meet them," a short man said, a smile curling at his lips.

"Oh, they'd never go," Betty began hopelessly, "It's outside the box for them."

_Box._

"Do you know where a mailbox is?"

They all looked at her, perplexed, before bursting into laughter.

"Right around the corner," Ralph said, before launching into wedding details. Columbia didn't listen much, just got up and stumbled out of the Triffid, seeing doubles of everything. "Say, would any of you be handy with the camera?" Was the last thing she heard, before walking down the dark street. She dropped the letter in, not noticing how cold it was, only concentrating on the aliens. They were here, and they were coming the castle. Something was happening in two weeks, and Columbia had a very good idea what it was…

X.x.x.x.X

Longest chapter yet. I took a bunch of liberties, introducing Ralph, Betty, and the Trannies. And sort of tying in Brad and Janet. More will be made clear soon! 333


	15. How Could You

This is the last official chapter. Epilogue will be on this too, and I'll have little spin-offs, alt-versions. 3

X.x.x.x.X

It took her a while to realize that she was feeling warmer because of the rising sun. She didn't immediately freak out, she was tired, and still a little drunk, and walking just because she thought she should. It sobered her up significantly when she looked up, and saw how the sky was amethyst, and stars were fading along with the periwinkle. She let out an overly dramatic gasp, and picked up the pace through the woods. She had blisters on every inch of her feet, and twigs in her hair, but she didn't care. It was morning. The servants could be, would be back at the castle by now. The bags under her heavy eyes were ignored as she bit her lip anxiously. Nobody but Eddie could know she was out. Nobody, especially Frank, could know she went for help.

The ring had been twisted around her finger constantly, a little pink circle of friction being ebbed into her skin. Columbia didn't quite notice, just stepped through the dark woods frantically, eyes tearing from the cold and from the panic. She didn't think about how funny it was, how ironic, that dark "haunted" forests didn't scare her even a little anymore; she lived in a nightmare: Aliens, deteriorating castle, mad scientist. Columbia was star in her own B-Movie life; she was the unorthodox heroine perhaps. _'They can call me whatever they want_,' she thought bitterly, _'S'long as Eddie's okay.' _She marveled over how over the top her mind set currently was, but just for a split second, before running.

She was a dancer and a swimmer, although not often nowadays. She could still sprint long distances, especially with the adrenaline pumping through her. Rock stars, movie stars, they were always the heroes. She was the groupie, the starry eyed girl who was there for support. Columbia had nobody to support her, she just had hope, and it was strange how it seemed good enough for the time being.

The first thing she could identify was the lab's dome. The unnatural blue stuck out, glinting light off lazily. Than the castle came into view, along with the warning sign that was hanging at an even worse angle than usual. Columbia wrapped her shaking hands around the wrought iron gates, catching her breath, and feeling her heart attempt to burst out of her chest. Tears dripping down her face, she didn't remember ever being this scared. Dropping to her knees, she sobbed, choking and gasping simultaneously, not even sure what she was crying about. She was going back. She was almost back. She had just escaped, had a good time, and came back to the place she had escaped from. She could leave the unhealthy place, leave the aliens and go back to anything, everything. She could start a new life, and not risk it by stepping inside once more. So many things could go wrong. Frank could find out. Eddie could be cut open before help came. He could die, and she would never leave. She would have to see Frank, she would have to say goodbye to the Transylvanians. Columbia could be free from all the trouble and pain. She could be happy. Happier. She could run back to the Triffid and get drunk, and forget. She could go home…Standing up, knees almost buckling, she started to walk.

She walked towards the castle, still crying, realizing that _this _castle was her home; and she could never leave it again without Eddie. She looked up from the ground, at the castle for the first time since the woods, and froze.

The truck was there. The castle door was open.

"No…no," she sputtered in disbelief. The truck was there, parked hastily, and one of the doors was still open. A broken lamp lay at the doorstep, and something seemed very wrong. Columbia _knew _something was very wrong, and she knew it was her fault.

It took her a very long time to walk through the door. She thought she could hear faint bangs and shouts, see things knocked over and broken. It was exactly what wasn't supposed to happen. The yelling seemed to be coming from the lab, and the groupie knew that she had very few choices. Choking on her sobs, she stepped gingerly over a broken statue, the arm and head lolling haphazardly a foot away. Opening the lift, Columbia bit into her lower lip as hard as she could, not quite feeling it.

She needed to press the button. She had to press the button, but her hands were wrapped around her frame, digging into cloth, flesh and bone. Everything seemed to pale in comparison to the fear she felt that moment. She had no idea whatsoever what was happening up in the lab, what would happen to her once she got up there. Were the servants okay; how would Eddie handle Frank-N-Furter's wrath? Fingers tapped against her ribcage, the uneven, broken rhythm that she did automatically. Everything had been going so well…

Her hand shook severely as she pressed the button, and started moving upward. All the angry words were getting clearer; she could pick out accusations and rants. The whip was being used, its signature smacks cutting through the decaying castle walls.

"How could you!?"

_Smack. _

"We are not sure how it happened-" _Smack. _"-Master, but-"

"She could be hurt! Or worse! She-"

"Magenta is trying to-"

"Trying isn't good enough!"

She reached the top of the lift, but no one seemed to notice. Frank, Riff Raff, even Eddie were to preoccupied with their raging argument (although, it was more Frank's raging argument) to see her. The domestic was at the monitor, flipping through lazily. Columbia had a hard time taking in what was happening; all she heard was Frank's desperate cries. The newly exiled butterfly seemed to return to her stomach, and she smiled before catching herself.

Eddie wasn't saying much, perhaps wisely. He did seem to be restraining himself, if barely, and was glaring at the transvestite with a newfound hatred. _Smack. _Finally feeling pity for the handyman, Columbia cleared her voice quietly.

The four spun around, and a stunned silence filled the room. Magenta looked half livid, half relieved. Riff Raff looked spiteful. Eddie openly grinned and started to say her name. Frank's face was completely bewildered until he saw the eye contact the two humans made. All the pieces fit into place at that moment.

"You!"

The scientist seemed more alarming than ever, a crazed look on her face, fists curling in and out. Eddie's eyes flashed with fear for a moment, before anger took over.

_Bam._

Frank's first connected squarely with the biker's left eye.

"Nooo!"

Columbia raced forward, to the greaser's body. She didn't look up at Frank, was too afraid. Eddie was covering his eye, and she gently pried his hand away. It would bruise, and it looked painful, but a part of her was screaming about how her Frankie had just hit someone over her.

"Eddie, Eddie, I-"

He cut her off, not sharply, but defiantly. "She's not yours," he said, looking Frank in the eye, unwavering. "She's not your doll, and she doesn't go on the shelf when a new toy comes around." The groupie's face flushed, and she winced when she heard the transvestite gasp. Columbia was torn between telling him to shut up, to avoid another punch, or listen to someone say such wonderful things about her.

"You don't own her," Eddie Scott continued, getting up from the ground. She lifted with him, clinging to his white scarf. "She's not for you to play with. She can do what she wants with her life." He was holding her hand, their rings hitting against each other. He wasn't shaking, but she was. She finally braved looking at Frank, using will power she didn't know she had. He looked bewildered and unsure of what to do. _'Nobody's eyes told him off before…' _Columbia realized with amazement, wishing she had the courage to do so. _'One day…' _she promised herself, trying not to notice how haunting and beautiful Frank looked before her. She looked at Eddie, an overwhelming feeling forcing through her. He felt like oxygen, and she had to breath him in.

She was kissing Eddie in front of the man who could destroy them both. His hands were in her hair, and she didn't worry about it. He tasted wonderful, and like hope, and she knew that they'd get out alive; or die trying.

Hands pulled her off, and she kicked and squealed in the scientist's arms. Eddie started towards them, pulling at his slingshot, when Frank gave a sharp nod to the handyman.

Eddie was turned to stone.

Columbia screamed, and her eyes overflowed. It was horrible, two men fighting, but not quite over her. Frank had decided from day one that she was his, than Eddie was his…but when he didn't want her, nobody else could have her. _'But he does care…he does…' _She thought absentmindedly, while being shoved in the elevator by the domestic. Vague words met her ears, like, "Let me see what's in the body bags," "Tomorrow, my experiment shall begin!" and "Just think! The convention will be a success!" She was crying, and laughing weakly, ecstatic and broken, and finally accepted that the madness had won…

X.x.x.x.X

Final chapter will be up probably tomorrow. It'll be more of an epilogue…this is crazy. My story's finished, and all chapters have over a thousand words each. Thank you to everyone, more thanks tomorrow. Everything will be tied in that I felt needed to be tied in. Have a tiny ray of hope for me.


	16. Epilogue and Lost Time

The beginning of the end.

X.x.x.x.X

"Dinner is prepared."

"I'm not hungry."

The domestic's shadow faded from the door, knowing better than to argue. Her Mickey Mouse ears were crooked, her pajamas a mess. She couldn't remember if she was hungry, or the last time she had eaten. It didn't matter anymore. It was great when it all began, the castle being the place that saved her. Now she needed saving from it's rooms and corridors…but not without Eddie. Her ring was still on her finger, the blue chipping slowly. _'They can pry it off me when I'm old and dead,' _she thought, not bothering to wipe the tears off her face. It was a fruitless effort to do so, more would spill, and she'd have to touch them again.

Her hands were dry, and the nail polish was gone, but her fingers were bone-like now. Remembering a conversation she and the delivery boy once had, she grabbed a pen from behind a lamp. She needed to give Eddie's statue a lasting mark.

L-O-V-E and H-A-T-E were written with surprising composure, on his fingers with the blue pen. It would match nicely, she thought, with the others, the "HATE" making it seem edgy and tough. _'He was so much more,' _Columbia reminisced miserably, finishing the last letter. _'He was better than all the sequins, and all the other wonderful things in the world. He was my world…" _He had been her sanity since that night they really started talking; and now that he was gone, everything seemed obscure. She couldn't remember how old she was anymore…for a long time, she was convinced she was twenty three, but she could only really remember up to nineteen, anything that happened in those alleged four years seemed to found different homes in her head. Twenty-three was the age on her fake I.D, but she felt that was too young; she had lived such a long and tiring life. Kissing the statue, not having to worry about lipstick stains; she trudged slowly to the lift…

A teacher once told her to think of three things she was good at, every day. Real, genuine qualities to be proud of. It was always a hard thing to do, and she stopped doing it quickly. Now she felt like she could do it-maybe. The biker had given her confidence, actually made her feel good about herself. _Swimming. _She thought about it as she dove into the pool, opening her eyes to feel the sting of the chlorine. She felt like a mermaid, naked, and not quite real. Columbia felt like a fantasy, her whole life seemed like a story. _Dancing. _Tap-dancing particularly. She would tap-dance for Eddie one day, tap-dance, because he would get it, and it was the one time people really stared at her for a good reason. She would test out the rhinestone-covered shoes once she was feeling better. More sparkly. More like the human sequin she once was. The third one was hard; it was always the one that stumped her. _One of a kind. _The groupie felt extremely bold saying that to herself, not being so critical for once. "Ve accept ze love ve zink ve deserve," was something the domestic had said to her the first night Frank didn't let her spend the night. And it was ugly to hear, and it was true. But Frank also had a power over her that not even Eddie had.

X.x.x.x.X

"I just thought the vall needed something."

Where Frank's face once was there was Eddie. Columbia gasped, knees buckling under her and squeezing her eyes tight. Arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she was gently pulled to her feet by Magenta. The maid was rubbing circles in her back, something she had never done before. The groupie felt her mouse ears straightened, and her pajamas dusted off.

"Now now, come along," The domestic said sternly, but with a hint of maternal feeling. Shaky breathing and hiccups ceased as Columbia looked up at her friend sadly.

"Will I ever seem him again 'Genta?"

"If all goes right, zan yes…"

For the first time in days, Columbia made eye contact with someone. Her crying stopped, and she grabbed Magenta's wrist.

"What do you mean?"

A sly smile slid across the maid's scarlet lips. She took time to collect her thoughts, while the groupie shivered with anticipation. She gripped her friend's wrists harder, nails digging into skin.

"My brother…after ve perform ze…surgical tasks, Eddie shall be…placed in the freezer."

"But-he's not meatloaf, or some frozen dinner!"

The domestic smiled again, a lazy yet amused expression on her face. "It only opens vhen it reached ze 'Deep Freeze.' My brother could time it possibly, making ze door open ze night of ze Master's…convention. Zhere would be guests to…entertain. You two could just slip out."

It seemed so simple, but her mindset had snapped already. Columbia burst into tears again, maniacal happy ones, and grabbed the domestic in a sloppy hug. She noted the sadness, the loneliness in Magenta's voice, and when she pulled away, leaned forward again. This time however, she kissed her. It was deep, and sad, and filled with the emptiness they both felt. They were both so far from home, they were the only one they could each be frivolous and maternal with. Columbia was well aware of the hungry fingers scrambling to get clothing off, aware of the skin and the animalistic noises. It was nice to feel loved, Columbia decided, even if it's to fill the emptiness inside…

X.x.x.x.X

"Who is it?

Someone was knocking on the door, causing her to sit up abruptly, and answer groggily. Someone entered in the darkness, unruly hair pouring over their shoulders. It had to be Magenta, coming up from her duties or her brother.

"'Genta, wasn't I enough?"

She was laughing as she said it, and heard the domestic chuckle. Settling down on the bed with her, the maid ran her fingers through the groupie's hair. She giggled as her fingers got caught in fiery red curls, smiled as bodies collided.

The curls came out. It was a wig.

"Frankie!"

"I'm afraid so," the transvestite murmured, sounding quite pleased with himself. "But wasn't it nice?"

It was nice, but Columbia's mouth couldn't seem to form words. She gasped and sputtered, her body feeling totally immobile, intoxicated by the very touch of the man. It had been much to long, Frank hadn't made her feel amazing in so long. She felt overdue, but confused, and hurt. Tears spilled out again, scared, unsure tears, and was surprised when he pulled her close to him, so she could feel her heart beating against his.

"Frankie…oh Frankie," she sobbed, feeling him stroke her hair slowly, and put kisses on her face. She felt her clothes coming off again, and his hot breath all over her body. She felt the addiction coming on, but Eddie's head kept flashing through her mind. It was insanity, and it was wrong, and it was the only way she knew how to cope. Columbia would just have to cope until the convention, until she was back with someone more.

X.x.x.x.X

This is finished…that's so weird to think about, but it is and I would not have bothered finishing this if I hadn't received so much support. From all of you that reviewed, or favorite-ed, or alerted, or of course, read this: I love you, and you are my muses and my motivation. Now that this is finished, I'll actually reply to all of you. This story was started days after I saw Rocky Horror the first time. I was fourteen than, and I'm fourteen now. I hope I've entertained you since this started, and I can't wait to actually review your stories! Feel free to send a message; now that I'm not concentrating on this, I can actually answer that…so yeah. Thank you, now let's do the Time Warp again!


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